George Sandusky sat in a booth a short distance away, talking in low tones with Tom as matt and Susie looked on and ate their fill of donuts. Matt had a chocolate malt sitting before him while Susie sipped on her coffee. Sandusky donuts were the best in the city. Though there were several donut shops, Sandusky’s Donut Factory had been voted the best donut shop in New York City.
Charles Goldberg’s Bagel Bin, which sat next door to Sandusky’s, had been voted the best bagels in the city. Goldberg also served some of the best kosher beef and kosher salami as well. His delicatessen had been given three stars in January after being discovered by a food critic. After that, both the Donut Factory and the Bagel Bin had been the premier go-to food destinations besides the soda fountain and malt shop in lower Manhattan.
Not that Matt cared. He loved the Donut Factory. The soda fountain and malt shop were for those who were still living in the fifties. Or even the early sixties.
It was 1970, for crying out loud! The only good use for a soda fountain, diner, or malt shop was for movies or television shows set in the ‘50’s. Sure, they were a great guilty pleasure from time to time, but there were so many other places to go for a date. So many great new restaurants had begun to spring up in the city that the old fashioned diners were, well, passé.
Even some of the restaurants his mother would talk about had vanished, now replaced by new ones claiming to still have the secrets of the old ones. Sadly, many did not live up to their hype. Others were, well, mediocre. But Matt kept a list of the best restaurants in New York City, whether they were in Manhattan, the Bronx, Tribeca district, Soho, Hudson Square, Harlem, or Little Italy. The Broadway area was not the only area now that had great restaurants.
Then, again, Matt was welcomed in Little Italy due to Tom’s Mafia connections. Just as he was also welcomed in Chinatown. Hell. He was welcomed anywhere he wanted to go. Too many musicians lived in every part of the city and they all demanded to work with him. he’d seen the inside of the Apollo more than most musicians, just as he had been in such up-and-coming clubs as Hilly’s on the Bowery and The Fillmore East. Bill Graham had even invited Matt back as a solo artist more than once, and he had taken the promoter up on it.
But things at The Fillmore was slowing down. It wasn’t the iconic place it had once been and Bill was beginning to ponder closing. For its short life, though, the venue had spawned some truly great musicians and had hosted many more. And Matt had been there for most of it
The memories were the most beautiful. He’d gotten to hang out with such legendary bands as The Allman Brothers, Cream, and even The Mothers of Invention. He had taken an instant liking to Frank Zappa at their first meeting. And Frank had taken an interest in him as well.
Both clubs had been like a parade of souls. Many would come and go, but only a few would become legendary. Matt knew that he would be one who would be legendary. He was just a boy when he first entered either club as a musician.
Music was Matt’s life. He ate it, breathed it, basked in it, and even dreamed it. He could get anyone an audience with any star simply because he was who he was. The mention of Matt’s name made any famous eyebrow raise in interest.
Tigg was beside herself. All of her efforts to draw the attention of Matt Morrow seemed to be for nothing. She had thought that her physique would have lured the boy of her dreams into her arms, but was beginning to believe that he was more interested in men. After all, no one ever saw him with any girl. Not even at the clubs. He always seemed to be alone.
Sure, he played music. But most band musicians would have already been all over her. She knew that from experience. She had been with quite a few already.
She was one of a handful that were known groupies. Their sole purpose was to offer themselves to every musician that caught their eye. It was a source of pride. To be desirable to a musician, famous or up-and-coming, was the dream of every red-blooded American girl since the advent of rock and roll. Fandom had given way to groupie status after the rise of the Beatles.
Tigg was no exception. Even her name was a “groupie” nickname. Tigg was short for Tigger. Lola Heartly had given her the nickname of “Tigger” because Tigg reminded her of Tigger from Winnie the Pooh. She, Lola had said, was always ready to pounce into action. Wylde had been added later to give her a name that would seem iconic. And the nickname had stuck. Both first and last.
Most people had never heard of Sarah Wilder. Most only knew her as Tigg Wylde. Sarah had passed away after her first successful conquest as a groupie. After that, there had been several. And now, Matt was another conquest.
Still, so far her plans had not come to fruition. Matt hadn’t even taken notice of her. It chafed her to have him blatantly ignore her. She’d had her day with all of his former bandmates. Yet, he would have nothing to do with her. Why?
But she refused to stop. She would continue to try until either she was successful or he came out publicly as being homosexual. She hoped that it would be success. She didn’t think she could live with finding out the latter.
She had started this life at thirteen. At that time, she looked far older than she was. At thirteen, she had looked as if she was eighteen. Now, she believed that she looked more like thirteen.
Matt had noticed Tigg. He had purposely avoided her every time she had tried to approach him. he felt that he was still too young to carry on any kind of relationship other than a professional one or those he had with family. He had little time for a girlfriend.
He knew that she really didn’t want a relationship past that of a one-night-stand, but he wanted none of the groupie scene…yet. He preferred to keep his virginity a while longer. Besides. When he chose to enter a relationship, he wanted it to be a semi-permanent one. Not some fly-by-night lust party.
He had to laugh, though. Tigg tried so hard to make herself look so much younger than she really was. He felt that she had given away too much of herself and forgotten who she was. He knew that she was sixteen, but he allowed her to believe that she had fooled him.
It was the seventies, after all, and the Summer of Love had opened a Pandora’s Box that would have lasting effects over the next few decades. Perhaps there would be a massive backlash at some point in the distant future that would drastically reshape America, and not for the better. Until that happened, girls like Tigg would always be readily available to any musician who desired one-night-stands.