Thelma and Louise, chapter 11
The party had cleared up, and now it was just me and Frank. We were on the bus that Frankie and I share, yet Frankie was shacking up with Gerard and the others tonight, claiming that I need 'my eighteen-year-old space'. There was streamers everywhere, yet the cake was nowhere to be seen, along with the cock ring. (Frank had washed his lip ring and brushed his lip about three times in the last ten minutes)
Frank had helped me with my earrings (I kept stabbing myself in the ear) and I was wearing my new pajamas with the hood up, of course! Frank had his oxford halfway unbuttoned, and was resting next to me on the wraparound couch in the lounge are, his head in my lap.
"Didja have a good birthday?" he inquired, hazel eyes gazing into mine.
I nodded, and stroked his jawline. It was slightly rough, but it felt good.
Without stirring Frank too much, I tucket my bare feet underneath me and sighed happily. "Wonder what Billie Joe's got planned..." I murmured to myself. Frank smiled and tilted his head so that he was looking out deeper into the bus.
"You'll never guess what I got you," he announced, looking back up at me. I cocked my head to the side in silent question. He grinned. God, his smile was irresistible.
"Keep your secrets, then," I said in mock pout. Pulling out a candy cigarette, I gave this one to Frank, placing it inbetween his lips slightly, and biting it off right before his lips. He read my mind and met me and we sort of crashed into eachother. I was playing absently with his hair while he cupped my face in both hands, savoring this moment to ourselves until...
An alarm went off. I looked up suddenly, at the clock.
It was 12:00 the next day. October 31.
Frank's birthday.
I looked back down at him. Grinning, I continued the kiss where we had left off but not before saying,
"Happy birthday."
He stopped and looked up at me.
"Looks like I got my birthday wish."
***
The following day, I woke up on the tour bus bunk, tucked under the covers. Groggily I searched around for Frank, but he was nowhere to be found. I got up, and placed my hood over my head. Walking out into the kitchenette area, I collided with Gerard, wearing the identical pajamas.
"Howdy," he said, grinning. "Great minds think alike."
I smiled, giving him a good-morning hug. "Coffee," I said, and he gestured to a potful. "Not the crap kind either. Mike brought Starbucks in the bag." I rejoiced by doing a small jig, then poured myself a cup.
The tour bus intercom crackled. Hey, wait a minute. I didn't know we had an intercom system.
"Attention skeleton children: Today is the Almighty Guitar God of Rhythm's birthday, so I command that everyone dress in their Halloween best and prepare to party tonight." The voice belonged to Frank, and Gerard and I looked at eachother sideways and grinned. "Just another excuse to wear great clothes," I said, and he nodded in agreement.
I decided on the black blazer that Billie Joe let me borrow (and let me borrow again for the occasion), a pair of slender jeans, a white studded belt, black Chucks, a white oxford and a red tie. I borrowed Frank's aviator sunglasses and ruffled my hair so it looked messy to complete the effect. Sticking a candy cigarette between my lips after applying gloss and liner, I sneered.
"Happy Halloween," I growled to no one in particular.
We exited the busses in the back of a gig, somewhere in God-knows-where. I noticed the chain-link fences where fans were waiting for both Green Day and My Chemical Romance. They screamed when they saw us exit the tour bus, Gerard in his skeleton shirt and big glasses, Frank with a cigarette in hand and a somewhat identical outfit to mine, Ray in a plain tee, Mikey in his famous Anthrax shirt and a jacket and Bob in a black work shirt and a red tie. Billie Joe, Mike and Tre were nowhere to be seen, yet I did catch the coattail of Tre's blazer whip around a corner leading into an adjoining building in the venue.
Then I smelled it: the smell of oranges and lace. Frankie bounded up to us, her blonde hair in small plaits, and a tight black zip hoodie on over a white tank top. She had a small black pleated shirt on, and combat boots up to her knees. Heavy kohl accented her eyes and her nails were black with white skulls as well. She had a grin on her face when she saw all the fans. Waving to them, they waved back. Obviously the story of Frankie was known by more than one, maybe ten people.
A sleek red Convertible pulled up next to us, and a driver stepped out. Frank looked at him then crawled into the driver's seat. Gerard nudged me. "Get in the passenger seat," he urged, and then ran over to the fans, leaving the other four to follow him. I did as he said, and shut the door when I was in. Frank looked over at me, grinning.
"You ready to find out what your birthday suprise is?" he questioned, that cute smile still on his face.
"More ready than ever." I grinned. "By the way, where are we?"
He gave a small wistful smile before revving the engine and driving off.
"We're home."
Frank had helped me with my earrings (I kept stabbing myself in the ear) and I was wearing my new pajamas with the hood up, of course! Frank had his oxford halfway unbuttoned, and was resting next to me on the wraparound couch in the lounge are, his head in my lap.
"Didja have a good birthday?" he inquired, hazel eyes gazing into mine.
I nodded, and stroked his jawline. It was slightly rough, but it felt good.
Without stirring Frank too much, I tucket my bare feet underneath me and sighed happily. "Wonder what Billie Joe's got planned..." I murmured to myself. Frank smiled and tilted his head so that he was looking out deeper into the bus.
"You'll never guess what I got you," he announced, looking back up at me. I cocked my head to the side in silent question. He grinned. God, his smile was irresistible.
"Keep your secrets, then," I said in mock pout. Pulling out a candy cigarette, I gave this one to Frank, placing it inbetween his lips slightly, and biting it off right before his lips. He read my mind and met me and we sort of crashed into eachother. I was playing absently with his hair while he cupped my face in both hands, savoring this moment to ourselves until...
An alarm went off. I looked up suddenly, at the clock.
It was 12:00 the next day. October 31.
Frank's birthday.
I looked back down at him. Grinning, I continued the kiss where we had left off but not before saying,
"Happy birthday."
He stopped and looked up at me.
"Looks like I got my birthday wish."
***
The following day, I woke up on the tour bus bunk, tucked under the covers. Groggily I searched around for Frank, but he was nowhere to be found. I got up, and placed my hood over my head. Walking out into the kitchenette area, I collided with Gerard, wearing the identical pajamas.
"Howdy," he said, grinning. "Great minds think alike."
I smiled, giving him a good-morning hug. "Coffee," I said, and he gestured to a potful. "Not the crap kind either. Mike brought Starbucks in the bag." I rejoiced by doing a small jig, then poured myself a cup.
The tour bus intercom crackled. Hey, wait a minute. I didn't know we had an intercom system.
"Attention skeleton children: Today is the Almighty Guitar God of Rhythm's birthday, so I command that everyone dress in their Halloween best and prepare to party tonight." The voice belonged to Frank, and Gerard and I looked at eachother sideways and grinned. "Just another excuse to wear great clothes," I said, and he nodded in agreement.
I decided on the black blazer that Billie Joe let me borrow (and let me borrow again for the occasion), a pair of slender jeans, a white studded belt, black Chucks, a white oxford and a red tie. I borrowed Frank's aviator sunglasses and ruffled my hair so it looked messy to complete the effect. Sticking a candy cigarette between my lips after applying gloss and liner, I sneered.
"Happy Halloween," I growled to no one in particular.
We exited the busses in the back of a gig, somewhere in God-knows-where. I noticed the chain-link fences where fans were waiting for both Green Day and My Chemical Romance. They screamed when they saw us exit the tour bus, Gerard in his skeleton shirt and big glasses, Frank with a cigarette in hand and a somewhat identical outfit to mine, Ray in a plain tee, Mikey in his famous Anthrax shirt and a jacket and Bob in a black work shirt and a red tie. Billie Joe, Mike and Tre were nowhere to be seen, yet I did catch the coattail of Tre's blazer whip around a corner leading into an adjoining building in the venue.
Then I smelled it: the smell of oranges and lace. Frankie bounded up to us, her blonde hair in small plaits, and a tight black zip hoodie on over a white tank top. She had a small black pleated shirt on, and combat boots up to her knees. Heavy kohl accented her eyes and her nails were black with white skulls as well. She had a grin on her face when she saw all the fans. Waving to them, they waved back. Obviously the story of Frankie was known by more than one, maybe ten people.
A sleek red Convertible pulled up next to us, and a driver stepped out. Frank looked at him then crawled into the driver's seat. Gerard nudged me. "Get in the passenger seat," he urged, and then ran over to the fans, leaving the other four to follow him. I did as he said, and shut the door when I was in. Frank looked over at me, grinning.
"You ready to find out what your birthday suprise is?" he questioned, that cute smile still on his face.
"More ready than ever." I grinned. "By the way, where are we?"
He gave a small wistful smile before revving the engine and driving off.
"We're home."
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