by DaNeo Duran
Before long the four players present sat around the table. Johnny allowed his body to relax and tried ignoring Geoff’s absence. But before the room faded from Johnny’s concentration Geoff swished in with time for the dealer deal him in.
Johnny barely noticed relief as he considered the red cards in his hand. Beyond them he saw Geoff settle and cover his right hand with his left. Johnny responded by covering his own right hand.
Several rounds and hand signals later he found himself fifty pounds up. Charles scratched his head and sighed.
Before long he saw Geoff’s thumbs cross signalling the end of their communication.
Free to play his own game thoughts of money welled which he promptly rejected. To win without Geoff’s assistance required strong cards and knowledge of who at the table had stronger ones. Ignoring money helped him concentrate as he relaxed again.
An hour later Johnny felt so stoned from his self-induced trance that he didn’t know how much money he had.
A metal chair leg screeched on the wooden floor and Charles stood up.
‘Not staying for another hand?’ Geoff asked.
‘Not tonight buddy.’
Johnny yawned and pocketed his stack of cash hoping it’d be heavier than the one he’d arrived with.
Charles left and, after an appropriate amount of chitchat with the others and pleasantries with Geoff, Johnny did too.
Back in his room he sat with his new Strat and counted a twenty-five pounds profit on top of what he’d taken from Charles. He considered at this rate he’d not miss the portion of wage Geoff withheld as loan repayments each week.
Downstairs he heard but ignored the phone ringing. Stu found him though.
‘It’s Geoff,’ he said through the door.
On the stairs Johnny grabbed the phone.
‘Congratulations,’ Geoff said. ‘The system worked a treat on Charles. How d’you feel about going in for the kill when Leonard shows?’
‘The sooner the better as far I’m concerned.’
‘Good man. But we can’t rush him like we did with Charles. Breaking him too soon could jeopardise everything and he’ll bail before we get chance to take him properly.’
‘So we tease him a bit first?’
‘Maybe even let him win a few rounds. In the meantime you need to win less.’
‘What?’
‘We did a number on Charles but if you consistently win, with or without my help, the guys won’t invite you back.’
Friday 27th March 1981
Christine finished work on Friday and travelled with Johnny and Stu to the youth club for rehearsal.
Mazz met them and announced she’d be reporting to Vanquar’s Derry Street office after the weekend for work experience with one of the company’s A&R staff.
Whilst Johnny set mics up Christine sat playing the youth club’s string synth.
‘You’re sounding more like Tony Banks all the time,’ Stu said arranging cymbals.
‘I’ve been listening to tons of Genesis,’ Christine said. ‘In fact all sorts of stuff since starting on Margaret’s record stall.’
She cast an eye over to Johnny who now wore a guitar she didn’t recognise.
‘Wow, that’s never the guitar you half-inched?’
‘Sure is,’ Johnny said.
‘It certainly looks hot,’ Stu said grinning at his own joke.
‘The colour’s amazing.’
‘How’s it sound?’
‘Okay,’ he said plugging into the amp and giving her a quick blast.
‘Sounds really good,’ Mazz chipped in.
A few weeks earlier the band had returned to, How Can We be so Happy; the song Johnny had impressed the girls with on their first session months earlier. The newly arranged version appeared dynamic featuring a string part so full-bodied Johnny withdrew any guitar playing until after the first chorus.
As his bandmates set the mood Johnny sang with vague metaphoric images; his voice sounding as lonely as the boy who’d made the journey to London with nothing but the memory of his mother’s voice.
His guitar hung at his waist until he sang, How can we be so happy, when we have nothing at all?
Then, stepping from the mic he gripped the guitar and closing his eyes pressed the ninth fret ready for his solo refrain. Like an extension of himself the Stratocaster felt organic in ways he’d not noticed before.
When the plectrum struck, the string resonated with life. The overdriven lead sound licked through the music of the other instruments like nothing before.
Shocked by the instrument’s authoritative sonic beauty Johnny gasped losing himself in the vibration and continued soloing after his allotted four bars.
Equally affected Christine’s nod to Mazz communicated they should repeat the section allowing Johnny’s indulgence.
Mazz thumbed the simple bass notes and melted into the extraordinary moment. Locked to Stu’s groove she focused on Johnny’s run up the guitar’s neck. Higher he went until at the last fret he held the note before diving down the neck to finish.
‘Oh my God,’ he exclaimed as he and everyone else stopped playing. ‘Did you hear that? This is an incredible instrument.’
‘It must need other instruments around it to sound its best,’ Mazz said.
‘You’re right. Let’s try it again and I’ll try and remember to stop for verse two this time.’
Saturday 04th April 1981
Johnny threw himself back into muay thai classes attempting to close the gap Stu’s practice would surely have created in the wake of poker lessons.
He’d attended another poker night. In Leonard’s absence another player had been picked on; Johnny following Geoff’s signals until seeing his crossed thumbs. Experimenting with different approaches from then on cost him the money he’d won which kept the group and Geoff happy.
Mazz spent the week away from school photocopying and making teas at Vanquar. She reported to Trudie in A&R but hardly heard any hopeful bands’ demo tapes. Trudie dealt mostly with already signed artists but nobody famous visited that week.
Warming to Trudie, she talked about Johnny and the Used Ones. Unfortunately she received a lecture on the business’s cutthroat nature. Trudie suggested she change tack whilst still young.
When Mazz showed no dissuasion Trudie reciprocated her warmth, taking five minutes to fast-forward through twenty minutes of their old demo. She agreed Johnny’s voice had character but stated she would have thrown the tape out as would any other A&R person.
* * *
On the first Saturday in April the band arrived to gig the Electric Ballroom. The bandmates had worked hard inviting everyone they knew, attempting to affect the club’s vast emptiness.
By the end of her week Mazz felt she’d made a friend of Trudie and convinced her to come along. But with no sign of her, she felt as nervous as her first gigs with the band.
‘You look amazing,’ Stu told her.
She knew she did. As always Christine had gone to town glamming and maturing her appearance with makeup and hairspray.
Mazz thought Johnny looked nervous too. She knew whatever the venue size performing to merely quarter-filled rooms bothered him.
Five minutes before their slot the room began filling and Johnny rallied the band together. Mazz couldn’t relax though. She’d always felt like the band’s weak link. Despite hours of personal practice and coaching from her bandmates she knew her ability still lagged behind theirs.
Even Stu’s input shaped the songs more than hers. Since starting on the markets the boys had seen more of Christine but Mazz had seen less and missed her.
Given the band’s copious line-up changes she didn’t believe they rated her as highly as they claimed. Her week with Vanquar had been her opportunity to add value. The poor demo hadn’t helped but getting Trudie to a gig could make the difference they yearned for. If only Trudie would show.
‘If she’s coming she’s coming,’ Johnny said. ‘Let’s take a minute backstage to r
ev up. Moping around here isn’t helping.’
Johnny of course knew Trudie most likely wouldn’t show. He took Mazz’s hand and led her away from the stage. His fake smile faded.
But no sooner had he turned than Mazz’s hand slipped from his. He spun round to see her facing a dark haired woman.
‘I worried I’d missed you,’ the woman said.
‘You’re just in time,’ Mazz said to her. ‘Trudie, this is the singer, Johnny.’
‘Is it now?’ Trudie said narrowing her eyes as if studying him.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Johnny said shaking her hand. ‘Sorry it’s not a better turnout.’
‘There’s plenty.’
Johnny didn’t believe her. Half full always meant half empty. Record company reps needed to see venues packed to the rafters.
Trudie went to the bar and after a backstage huddle Johnny stepped onto the stage. Before donning the Stratocaster he looked at it, ready for their first gig together. He calmed down.
Facing the front he looked beyond the emptiness at the front of the stage into chattering faces. It’d take a lot to win them over and a lot more to win Trudie.
Stu counted in Blossoming Angel, a new song.
Johnny crunched out a riff whilst the girls and Stu clapped time. The girls sang his lines back in unison. He sang the last line and stopped. The girls repeated the line in acapella harmony.
In the following bar of silence Johnny reckoned half the chattering had ended. The full band dived into the chorus.
Competing with drums, strings and bass the guitar sound transformed in richness sending Johnny’s spirits higher.
Blossoming Angel, received healthy applause but the room’s atmosphere mismatched his ambitious mood.
Rather than hope that would change he addressed the audience. ‘Why is this area in front of the stage empty?’
Waving his hands some people advanced a safe distance.
‘Hopeless.’
Johnny took his guitar off and jumped off stage. Mazz laughed as he took a pretty girl’s hands and walking her forwards shouted an invitation to the lads to dance with her.
He repeated the act with two more girls before returning to say, ‘That’s better. This next song’s called, Come On, Let’s Dance at the Front.’
The playfulness helped Mazz relax and she enjoyed the rest of the gig which, despite lacking snippets of magic, leant towards exhilarating rather than the more common disappointing.
When they caught up with Trudie she complimented Mazz and the band.
‘Can we get your honest thoughts?’ Johnny asked.
She looked him in the eye. ‘I never hand out unjust compliments. But truthfully, you’re not ready for Vanquar.’
‘We guessed as much.’
‘The window closes quickly but you’re still a young band. You have time to improve as long as you don’t waste it. Most people don’t have what it takes but you guys have something fundamentally worthy. I’d be very keen to see you after twelve months flat-out graft.’
‘Twelve months. What do we need to do?’ Johnny asked.
‘Stay true to yourselves and build from it. You look good but you need an Adam and the Ants memorable image.’ She looked at Johnny. ‘You can sing which is a huge help and I heard a couple of songs that might cut it but you need more of them and for goodness sake get a new demo.’
‘Will you still remember us in a year?’ Mazz asked.
‘Us industry types aren’t that bad and it’ll come round quick, so make the most of it.’
Tuesday 12th June 1984
On the bus that morning, Johnny thought back to his days of learning poker with Geoff and the stories of business and man’s desire for the achievement of wealth that often came up.
Johnny had never had much money in either his current life or the one he preferred to forget. But Geoff told him earning money awakens the desire to earn more. In America, The USed Wonz earned more than any of them ever had but T-shirt sales made them think again.
As he dwelled on Linda’s non-deserved bad luck his mind turned to repaying her and to poker.
Turning in his seat he saw Christine watching him.
‘Hot isn’t it?’ he said.
‘Sure is.’ She smiled and he dismissed the idea of poker.
Wednesday 08th April 1981
At the foot of the stairs Johnny took steadying breaths.
He’d been so full of band strategies since meeting and hearing Trudie’s comments he’d almost forgotten about poker. But when Geoff had interrupted him earlier that day confirming Leonard’s arrival from business in Taiwan, Johnny’s mind zoned to the night ahead.
Taken to one side Geoff had handed him a wad of cash and stressed the importance of following his instructions and the plan to tease Leonard before going in for the kill.
Johnny did a few stretches and climbed the stairs. Reaching the room he saw five men. He recognised all but one and might have sensed a different atmosphere.
‘Hey Johnny,’ Charles said blocking his scan of the room for Geoff, ‘You met Leonard?’
Surrounded by the others the stranger looked nothing like he’d imagined. Despite the tan he’d brought back from Taiwan the fat doughy look suggested he might be like a friendly version of Mr Toulson; misguided and idiotic. But, with Leonard’s crushing handshake Johnny reminded himself this man had purposely or otherwise got one over on Geoff. Johnny took the twinkle in his eye as a warning.
Leonard took position at the card table first and Johnny sat opposite where he could keep an eye on him. He prepared himself for the long haul with or without Geoff. Settling his racing heartbeat he resolved not to speak or move more than necessary.
The other guys took their places and Geoff finally appeared with his usual grin. Everyone but Johnny smiled back.
Geoff hung his jacket up and dragged the last chair to the table where he told a begrudging Leonard to shift up. Geoff squeezed between him and Charles who shuffled the deck preparing to deal.
From the shake of Leonard’s head Johnny deduced he didn’t share the same respect of Geoff most did.
Charles dealt and Leonard snapped his first card up. Geoff took his time and Johnny took longer not looking at his cards until all had been dealt. By that time he’d read a few faces.
Turning his cards he saw a pair of nines. Not bad but Herbert O. Yardley’s book would advise he folded. Johnny wondered how long it’d been since Geoff had read the book he’d lent him – Geoff who’d pushed him to take risks the book never would.
At the draw Johnny watched everyone and Geoff’s signal but folded.
He knew they didn’t have long to whet Leonard’s appetite and take him down but having begun thinking of poker like street fighting he’d have advised anyone else to play safe and run. After the chips went into the pot Johnny felt better having folded.
Geoff had bet and lost; Leonard won the deal.
After a few rounds and better hands Johnny started netting cash playing his own game not always acting on Geoff’s signalled instructions. Though he’d never questioned Geoff’s teaching he’d borrowed library books to further develop his own philosophy of the game.
Like Yardley but unlike music, he understood that emotion had no place in winning strategies. Winners knew and understood the odds and Johnny had memorised them all from Royal Flush down to the weakest hands.
Leonard had so far played emotionally, celebrating his wins and grouching at his losses. Johnny guessed from the way he’d stare at the money on the table that he’d be every bit the greedy businessman Geoff had described.
After more rounds Geoff started highlighting Johnny’s wins by laughing and telling Leonard his game had slipped. Johnny felt others around the table join Geoff’s banter until Leonard changing colour through his tan silenced them with a single glare.
Another deal and Geoff signalled Johnny to lose despite Leonard’s weak hand. Johnny responded by staying and not raising; suggesting he also had weak cards. Geoff’s aim
presumably to trick Leonard into recklessness; winning where he should be losing.
The more Leonard’s teeth clenched the more Johnny used that as a signal to relax whilst around him Charles and the others grew more uncomfortable. When Leonard won the hand the room breathed a sigh of relief.
Each round led to the point where Johnny could feel the strike time coming. He found himself with three tens; a strong hand. Holding the cards in his left hand let Geoff know the situation. Soon everyone but Leonard folded. Geoff’s reply communicated Leonard also had a strong hand and not to gamble.
Johnny considered the odds. Not much beat three of a kind but when the final card turned he couldn’t believe his luck.
He looked straight at Leonard. No reaction.
He looked back at the ten of clubs; four of a kind. He signalled to Geoff who replied with his blessing. Johnny saw Leonard’s bet and raised.
Relaxing in the face of Leonard’s clear frustration became impossible.
Eventually Leonard said, ‘Alright, I’ll see you and raise again.’
Johnny’s heart pounded. He swallowed, his usual state of mind having deserted him. Leonard must know he’d got him on the ropes for the first time. His mind flashed forwards wanting to get this part of Geoff’s arrangement behind him. He forced his thoughts back to the present.
He looked at Geoff’s silent hands.
Leonard rushed him. Johnny couldn’t calculate his odds until Geoff told Leonard to button it.
Looking again at the cards his mind cleared just enough. Not only did very little beat four of a kind but given the cards facing, Leonard couldn’t possibly have a better hand.
‘Well?’ Leonard said.
‘All in.’ Johnny pushed his remaining chips into the centre of the table.
‘I thought you’d do that; try and scare me out the game. Fine. All in.’
Leonard also pushed his remaining chips into the table. ‘Showdown.’
‘What’s everyone got?’ Geoff’s voice squeaked.
Johnny turned his cards over and neither looked at Leonard’s cards nor responded to the outburst that followed.
Without a glance at Geoff, Johnny stood and dragged all the chips his way his cheeks burning to smile.
‘Well Leonard,’ Geoff said when nobody else dared. ‘I guess that’s you done.’
