“Yes, Mom, Shuggie’s right here, sitting next to me. He’s fine.”

My sister Connie was on the phone with Mom. She kept making faces at me as she tried to calm my mother, who sounded hysterical. Her roommate Lauren pretended she was reading that trashy novel, Valley of the Dolls. I don’t think she was snickering at the author’s insipid writing.

“No, Mom, he’s dressed …uh… normally.” She shot me an icy glare. “Eloping with Bobby?” she coughed up a laugh. “Where would you get that idea, Mom? Grandma? She’s…listen, she probably made that up to make Dad go nuts.”

I placed my head in my hands and tried to bury myself in the recesses of the couch, but the cushions were as hard as blocks of granite. I kept popping back up like a jack-in-the-box.

“Dad wants to speak to him? Okay, hang on.” Placing her hand over the transmitter, she said to me, “Dad. Be careful what you say.” I took the handset from her, cleared my throat, and then tried to speak in as masculine a voice as I could muster.

“Hello, sir. Yes, I’m okay. No, I’m not dressed like a girl!” Unfortunately, I squealed that last part. Trying to sound like Robert Merrill in the role of Figaro in a production of The Barber of Seville, I continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t apprise you of my plan to accompany Robert to his first day of rehearsal, sir. The time just flew by and, well, a telephone wasn’t available. Yes, I’m aware there are millions of payphones in a city the size of New York. Yes, I know I can get change of a dollar at any store.”

Connie ripped the phone from my hand and maintained a calm, even tone that seemed to slow Dad’s inquisition down. “Daddy, Shuggie’s safe and sound and I’ll keep an eye on him. Don’t worry. He can stay here tonight. Lauren won’t mind.” Lauren looked up from her book and shook her head from side to side. “Get some sleep, Dad. You don’t want to miss work two days in a row. Good night.” She hung up.

“I’m not paying for that long distance call,” Lauren declared as she turned back to her reading.

“Shuggie’s paying for it”

“I’m not the one with a job,” I parried.

“Okay, this is the plan. You’ll sleep on the couch. Go brush your teeth and—god, I can’t believe I’m saying this to my own brother—use some cold cream to take off your makeup—”

“I know how to do that!” I interjected.

“And remember to moisturize,” Lauren cackled from behind her book.

“Can I borrow some pajamas? Please?”

“Please do, Connie. I’ll have to tear my eyes out and throw them away if I see your brother in his knickers or, saints preserve us, I see his willie.”

I got up real early the next morning and decided to make nice with my sister and prepared breakfast for her and Lauren. El Pico coffee and toast. For myself, I had Cheerios in milk and sliced the lone banana I found in the kitchen. Potassium helps regulate fluid balance, muscle contractions and nerve signals. Very important for a growing girl like me.

They trudged in from the bedroom they shared, looking more tired than when they shuffled off to sleep last night. They just grumbled, sat down, and started buttering their toast. Connie didn’t even blink when I poured hot java into her cup. Now I know how Mom feels every morning.

“I’m going to see Bobby today and get my luggage and makeup case.”

“Okay, I can give you money for the bus. Get your stuff from Bobby and go down to Port Authority, take the 177 express to Washington Avenue and call Mom. She’ll pick you up.” I nodded and tried not slurp my milk as I usually do. Connie had no idea what my plan for the day was. I was going to get a job so I could go on the summer tour with Bobby. There must be something I could do. I wasn’t one of only two boys in school to take typing and home economics classes for nothing! And I know I typed faster and baked better than Freddy.

After Connie handed me a crisp ten-dollar bill and waved goodbye as she and Lauren went off to work, I made a beeline to their room. I couldn’t show up today wearing the same shmata I had on the day before. I needed to take a look at what Connie had in her closet. She won’t mind if I borrow some nice things. After all, that’s what sisters do, don’t they?

Their bedroom consisted of twin beds, a set of drawers they shared, a small vanity, two chairs, and an armoire. I opened the armoire and rifled through Connie’s dresses. Good thing we were about the same size. Well, she’s a little bustier than I am. And her hips are a little bigger. Other than that, we’re a perfect match!

My choices came down to a pink floral print knee length dress, a brownish tweed skirt suit set with too many pockets, and a blue rayon mini dress with a jewel neckline, puff sleeves and button front. I thought blue was more my color than brown or pink and the mini dress would show off my nicely shaved legs. Done! Now, lingerie. Well, Connie’s bras wouldn’t fit me at all. She’s a B cup at least. Digging through her lingerie drawer, I found a panty girdle that might be a fit. Maidenform! I can see the full-page ad in Vogue now: “Shuggie Brennan’s dreams begin with a Maidenform girdle.” I found the cutest knee-high lace-up white boots with sensible two-inch heels in the armoire. Mine! My knock-off Hermes bucket bag didn’t quite go with my outfit but nobody’s perfect.

A little blush, mascara, Connie’s peach lipstick and voila! I puckered my lips in the bathroom mirror and blushed. How can they not give me a job when I look like this? Mom would be so proud of her beautiful daughter. Dad would have a seizure.

When I strode into 1650 Broadway, looking and feeling years older than 17, the doorman remembered me from the day before and held up his hand.

“Hey, Miss, going up to the rehearsal studio?” I nodded. “These music people don’t usually get started until after 12 noon. Even that’s kinda early. Come back in a couple of hours.” I thanked him and turned to make a graceful exit, feeling a bit like a greenhorn for not knowing. He tipped his cap and smiled. Or was it a leer?

I wandered about for a few minutes on Broadway before The Woolworth’s on the corner of 47th Street drew me in to buy a pack of gum. Doublemint gum to be exact. However, while I was at the register paying for it, a display of lollipops brought a smile to my lips. I’m kind of old for lollipops and the clerk at the register smirked when I added a lemon lollipop to my purchase. I sauntered over to the houseplants department. Sucking on my lollipop, the sweetly sour taste made my face scrunch up in a funny way while I examined a potted aloe vera plant. It would look nice in Mom’s kitchen window. The price tag read a reasonable $2.50.

“That’ll look nice on your desk.” I looked up at a tall man who looked to be in his 40s, wearing an expensive pinstriped Brooks Brothers suit, topped by a dark fedora on his head. I plucked the lollipop out of my mouth. “Pardon?” I blinked at him.

“A little greenery can distract from the gray mundanity of modern office life.”

“Oh, I don’t work in an office. I haven’t even graduated from high school yet.”

“That’s surprising. The way you look. The way you carry yourself. I’d have thought you were a recent college graduate at least.” Blushing, I thanked him. I realized I was holding a rather sticky lollipop in my right hand and a potted aloe vera in my left. My bucket bag was hanging from my right forearm. In short, I looked silly.

“My wife doesn’t understand me.” He stepped closer. I handed the plant to him with a smile. He juggled it for a moment.

“Here, give her this. It’ll brighten up her day. Bye!” I turned and walked very quickly toward the store exit without looking back.

Where could I go to kill a couple of hours? Maybe I could see if Carole and Gerry are in their office. They wouldn’t mind me hanging out with them, would they? I can be very quiet when I want to. It’s just that I rarely if ever want to. My teachers always encourage us to participate in class. I’m just participating in life.

I poked my head through the doorway and saw Carole sitting at the piano, tickling the ivories, and humming some melody. Gerry was on the phone, listening with an annoyed look on his face, puffing on his pipe. Waving to Carole, I quietly sat down on a folding chair, primly keeping my knees together, my bag on my lap.

“Hey, Shuggie, I thought you’d be back in Bergenfield today.”

“I stayed with my sister last night. She and her roommate have an apartment in the Village. Anyway, I’m still planning to go on the tour with Bobby. I think I can get them to hire me.”

“Hire you? To do what?”

“I could be a really good assistant. You know, typing, answering phones, that kind of stuff.”

Carole turned to face me. “They’ve got a road manager for that. Ray Barretto, best road manager in the business. East Coast anyways. He has all the contacts, knows every hotel manager, travel agent, equipment tech, and late-night diner in every city from Boston to Chicago. There are doubts he can actually read and write. Just talks on the phone.” My face fell. Another hope dashed.

“What am I gonna do? My parents won’t let me stay in the city unless I can get a job. They think I’m coming home today. If I could at least spend some time with Bobby before he walks out of my life forever.” I started to tear up.
Gerry had finished his phone call and was re-lighting his pipe. “Tough break, kid. But, you know, these teenage crushes are doomed from the beginning—”

“Why didn’t someone tell me before I met you?” Carole said to the ceiling. She turned to me with a bright expression on her face. “How good is your typing? Are you fast and accurate?”

“I can type 60 words a minute and I’m 93% accurate.”

“That’s better than what I did at James Madison High. Impressive.”

“Especially when you consider I was one of only two…uh…”

“Two what?”

“Juniors. We were juniors. Everyone else in class was a senior.” I would’ve whistled in relief but, thankfully, I can’t whistle. Carole continued.

“Gerry, what do you say we hire Shuggie to be our personal assistant? Jot down lyrics, type them up. You and I both can’t make out my chicken scrawl handwriting sometimes. And she’s a better typist than I am.”

“We could take her salary out of our expense budget. Say $1.50 an hour?”

I jumped out of my chair and hugged Carole. “Thank you! Thank you! I promise I’ll be the best assistant ever!”

“What? No hug for me? You’re working for me too, you know.” I rushed over and hugged Gerry as well. He held onto me a little bit longer than necessary.

“We’ve been working on this song all morning. Take my pad and write down the lyrics as I play. Here’s a pencil. It’s a little rough. I have to sing it in E since it’s written for a guy voice. I’d rather sing it in A. More my range. Gerry’s got a little sore throat. Otherwise, he’d sing it. I’m losing you with all this, aren’t I?” I just nodded, my pencil at the ready. Gerry had come over and stood by the piano, staring at me rather intently. Carole started playing. She told me the title was “Sometime in the Morning.”

“That’s beautiful,” I said when Carole was finished. She smiled.

“How much of that did you get? We’ll run through it a couple more times. I’m still working out the phrasing here and there.”

“Mrs. Winston said I had the best shorthand in our class. But, yeah, I could hear that another time at least.” I giggled. Gerry smiled. You know, he’s a nice-looking man. An older man. But nice-looking all the same. I covered my mouth to stop giggling like a 3-year-old.

“One of the most important duties of a personal assistant is getting coffee. The kitchen’s down the hall to the left.” Gerry pointed with his pipe.

We worked on three songs in all that day, although two of them were incomplete. One, in fact, just had a verse and a chorus. Still, I typed them all up along with carbon copies. Carole only found a handful of typos, so I had to type those over again. But they had plenty of paper and you could reuse the carbons a zillion times. I even suggested they invest in a mimeograph machine. Gerry said they might do that just to sniff the ink that permeated the stencils. “I always volunteered for the ditto squad at school. About 15 minutes in, we’d be weaving around the library office like drunken sailors.”

It was a little after 5 o’clock when Carole and Gerry left for the day, driving back to their house in the well-to-do suburb of West Orange, New Jersey. I sprinted over to 1650 Broadway to see Bobby. I had good news to tell him! Working for Carole and Gerry meant Bobby and I could spend a romantic month together in the Big Apple. There’ll be a teary farewell at the end, but I’ll have these memories forever. Maybe the time together alone can keep me in Bobby’s thoughts while he’s on tour and, hopefully, as long as we may be apart in the future, whatever he decides to do after September.

I was surprised to see the addition of a string section to the band when I quietly snuck into the rehearsal studio. They were in the middle of a duet number between Hank and Honey, with backing vocals by the Honeys, who were doing some coordinated dance moves to one side. Billy Schechter nodded and motioned to me to have a seat next to him on the studio’s old vinyl couch. He mouthed “It Takes Two” and smiled. They were doing a cover of the old Marvin Gaye/Kim Weston song. Bobby spotted me and missed two bars of the song, he was so surprised. Fortunately, no one really noticed, and I looked away quickly. Only to see Billy offering me a Marlboro. I shook my head, putting my hand up. He mouthed “Not your brand?” I nervously smiled in reply as he lit his own smoke.

They rehearsed for another hour or so and then packed up their instruments before scattering. Billy told them they were on their own until tomorrow afternoon. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kids.” He laughed, patting people on the back as they shuffled out the doors. Once again, the Honeys gave me the side eye as they undulated past. Hank winked at me before feigning an exchange of punches with Billy. They both laughed as they walked out together. Bobby and I were the last to leave the studio. I reached over to take his hand, and, to my surprise, he wrapped his large hand over my slim fingers. He even noticed my peach-colored nail polish.

Bobby said we needed to sit down and talk so we walked the two blocks to Tad’s Steakhouse where we could have their famous $1.09 steak dinner. It was a great deal: a T-Bone steak, baked potato, garlic bread, and tossed salad.

“What wine do you recommend, Bobby?”

“Just order the iced tea like you usually do. I’ll just have the water. Listen, Shuggie, I was going to bring your luggage to you tomorrow morning. What are you doing still here?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed. Are you disappointed? Like, really?”

“No, of course not. But there’s no way you can stay with me. I’m crashing at the bass player’s apartment and his wife isn’t too happy about it. They’ve got a baby. I must have woke up 2 or 3 times from the crying last night.”

“Well, I got a job! If I’m working, my dad can’t complain. He doesn’t want me around anyway. I think he’s kind of ashamed of me.”

“What kind of job?”

“I’m Carole and Gerry’s personal assistant. They’re paying me $1.50 an hour!”

“That’s minimum wage, Shuggie. Where are you gonna stay? Your sister’s?”

“I guess so. I was hoping to stay with you but…they’re not putting you up in a hotel?”

“I’m lucky to get per diem. They’re not paying me a real salary until the tour starts. Hey, where’d you get all these…clothes? I mean, in all the time we’ve known each other, sure I’ve seen you dressed up a few times. But never in public. And I looked in your suitcase. Sorry but you didn’t lock it. Where’d you get the outfits?”

“Oh, that. What do you think we do in Home Economics? It’s not that hard to make a dress or two. I told Mrs. Rheingold I was making them for Connie. Connie was in her class three years ago. And the other stuff I bought from thrift stores. Grandma gave me a load of cash for my birthday in May.”

“You made what you’re wearing right now?”

“No, this is my stupid sister’s dress. And boots. And makeup. She won’t even know it’s missing.”

“She will now when you show up wearing it all.”

“I guess I’ve got no other choice.”

“Come on. I’ll drive you downtown. Billy got me a space in the parking garage courtesy of his record label. I don’t even have to pay for it.”

I pressed the doorbell while Bobby carried my luggage in both hands. I heard the thud of footsteps getting louder and then the door opened, offering us a sight that made Bobby drop his dual burden.

Before Connie could speak, I practically shouted, “I got a job! I can stay in the city…with you guys!”

“Well, in that case, I’ll want that $10 back right now.”

“Your sister is a real tightwad,” my grandma sighed.

“Well, she is a business major.”

The front door slammed shut. My parents were home from visiting my convalescing Aunt Brenda. As I got up from the kitchen table where we had been sitting after destroying the Hawaiian pizza, I stifled a yawn.

“We’ll continue the story tomorrow night after dinner, sobo.”

“This is like Days of Our Lives except I can understand more of it.”