A Note Don't Come Easy, chapter 8
“Ok, what about this one then? I like this one.� I asked, pointing to a weird shaped guitar.
“What the fuck is that?� Billie cried. “How the hell do you like that? You can’t call that a guitar!�
“Its kewl. It’s a weird shape.� I said, turning to look at others.
“Weird shape, right. Good to look at, but shit to play on. Nice choice.� He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at my knowledge in guitars.
“How is it shit to play on? Have you ever played it?�
“No, and I don’t think I want to either. Look at all the strings and frets, all demented and fucked up.�
“Whatever you say. You know more about the guitar world then what I do.� I told him, again starting to wonder around the warehouse known as ‘Amp’s way.’
Well, it was the size of a warehouse that would be in the UK, but to Billie Joe, it was small.
“So, then Mr. Armstrong. Are you going to tell me what’s the best guitar to play then?�
“That’s easy to work out. A Fender definitely.�
“But what sort? There seem to be tons!�
“It’s got to be a Fender Jagstang. It’s the one I play, but I thought you would have know that though.�
“What’s that supposed to mean?� I asked, suspicious.
“Oh nothing. Just thought you knew everything about me. You seem to follow me around enough.�
“Follow you around?� I asked. “I’ve never been out of the UK.�
“I mean, you know what I’m doing and when I’m doing it. You know every little detail about me. You probably know my life story and every thing I’ve ever said. It’s like you stalk me.�
“And just how the fuck did you work that one out?� I asked, smiling, but tense at the same time.
It was true, everything he said was. But I wasn’t going to admit it until he had proof.
“The posters, CD’s, thinking that I’m cute and lovely just happen to spring to mind.�
Ah. He did have proof. Shit. I could feel myself turn red in the face. It was a leading trick question. If it wasn’t true, I would of just laughed it off, and if it were true, I would be turning redder then a beetroot. I had chosen to turn into a beetroot! I looked hard at him for a few second before awkwardly turning away and looking up at the guitars that were suspended from the ceiling.
“So, where is this Fender Jagstang then? I wanna see one.� I said with my back still turned to him, trying to hide my redness.
“See, there you go. Changing the subject again. You just can’t admit that you got the hots for me.� Billie Joe laughed, clutching his side.
“Are you going to show me these guitars or not?� I asked, feeling my face turn the darkest shade of red it ever had.
“Ew!� he squealed taking the piss. “Someone’s aggressive.�
“You don’t know the half of it.� I whispered, moving aside to let him pass.
He moved from leaning on the shop shelf and walked down the aisle to show me the guitars. I followed him, keeping my head down so I wouldn’t catch eye contact with him. I just concentrated on the back of his feet moving across the shop floor.
“Here we go. Now that’s what you call a Fender Jagstang.� He said, pointing out to a brilliant blue guitar that was pinned to the wall in front of me.
I fell in love with it straight away. The colour just stood out. Kind of like me, I had always been the outsider. I represented my life in every way. I wanted it so badly. I know that sounds selfish but it was awesome. And I when I say awesome, I mean, awesome!
“I fucking love it!� I said, still transfixed on the guitar that was on the wall before me.
“Knew you would.�
“How much is it?�
Billie Joe leaned to the guitar and turned round a small tag attached to it that had the price on it.
“$440.�
“$440!?!� I screamed.
“That’s the price you pay for being talented enough to play guitar.�
“Holy Shit.� I said to myself, looking down at the floor again. “I Wish I had swapped that coke for $100 now.�
Billie Joe laughed, his eyes glinting. “I told you to swap it! But you didn’t want me to have your precious coke.�
“I’m so fucking selfish.� I said, gritting my teeth and kicking lightly the shelf in front of me that was a few centimetres off the floor.
“Hey, I was joking. You know that don’t you? Don’t blame yourself.� Billie Joe whispered softly to me, putting his hand on my shoulder and looking into my eyes that were bloodshot to the core. “We’ll figure out a way to find some money. I’m sure you have some somewhere that we can use.�
“But Billie Joe, I don’t even have any money to buy a plane ticket back home. So there’s no way I’m going to be able to pay for a new guitar.�
“Shit,� he said, slowly moving his hand from my shoulder to around my waist. “What about your hotel room? That’s gonna run out soon isn’t it?�
“ Don’t remind me please. I don’t even know where I’m going to go after. I can’t go back home. I’m stranded. The hotel runs out in about a week I think. There was only so much I could pay. I’m so screwed.�
I looked at my shoes and shifted them in frustrated and confusion. I felt Billie Joe put his other arm around me and hug me tight.
“Don’t worry,� he assured me. “Everything will work out fine. But we’ve got to get back to the hotel now. Tre and Mike will be wondering where I am and I need to give you another guitar lesson. It’s not long until the audition.�
“ Yeah, and don’t I know it.�
* * * * * * * *
Billie Joe sat on the sofa with his guitar propped up on his lap.
“So what do you want to know? Anything you want to check up on?� he asked, leaning on the top of his guitar.
“I don’t know really. Maybe some palm muting or something.� I replied, sitting next to him, exactly in the same position with my guitar on my lap.
“Do you know what you’re playing yet?�
I looked at him in horror, realising that I hadn’t even chosen a song yet. I was so unorganised. I don’t know how I was coping. I seemed to be living a lie.
“Shit! No…I don’t. Fuck. What am I gonna play?�
“I don’t know. You know what you can and can’t play. You decide.�
“But I can’t! I never know what one to do! I can’t play one perfect. All the one’s I play are good in their different ways. It depends on the song. I can’t play one that is absolutely perfect.�
“Well pick one to do and we’ll work on that one.�
“But Billie Joe, I can’t pick one! You pick one for me.�
“I can’t do that kid. Remember what I said yesterday? It’s got to be personal to you.�
Yesterday, yeah. I remember. The last time I tried to pick a personal song, I ended up upsetting Billie. Maybe I wouldn’t pick Wake Me Up When September Ends this time.
“Ok then…� I was still trying to think of a song. “I want to play a song that they’ll all know, but not an obvious one. You know what I mean?�
“Yeah I do, but like I said it’s up to you.�
God, I was going to be here forever. Billie still sat leaning on his guitar, with his arms crossed and looking right at me. I wonder what was going through his mind? Probably that I didn’t have a fucking clue what I was going on about, or maybe he was thinking why the hell he was there. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was.
“I know. What about When I Come Around? I can do that one ok.� I said, my eyes widened at the idea.
“Kewl. Good choice. Now let’s start before I die of boredom for watching you think.�
I swatted him over the head with my hand, smiling at him with admiration. He had given up so much of his time lately to be with me. Why was he doing this? Maybe he wanted something out of it at the end. Something I couldn’t give him. And I’m not thinking about sex here. He would never want to fuck me. If he did, he would need his eyes and mind tested. I was the most fucked up girl around. Well, that’s just the way I had taken things from when I was at school. I had to try and forget most of the bad things that had happened to me. I had to forget it all and get on with my life.
Billie Joe started playing When I Come Around on his guitar and it snapped me out of my trance. I watched him closely. He had such talent. I was shit compared to him. Why was I even doing this? I had no chance in winning whatsoever. God, I must have been stoned when I came up with this brainy idea! But if I hadn’t come, then I wouldn’t be sitting here next to Billie Joe. Instead, I would be looking at the posters on my wall thinking of another one of my stupid plan’s that never worked. Maybe God had felt sorry for me and made one of them work for once.
“Stef,� Billie Joe cooed, waving his hand in front of my face to grab my attention.
It felt strange him saying my name, as he always called me kid. I loved it when he called me kid. It was like he had owned me with a trademark.
“Sorry, what?� I asked dazed still.
“Your turn to play.�
“What?�
“You play it now.� He said, spelling it out for me. He leaned back onto the sofa and stretched up high with his arms. “I wanna see you play.�
I wanted to poke him in the ribs as he stretched to get him back for the tickling fight earlier. My ribs still hurt.
“Kid, are you alright? You’re not stoned or anything are you?� he asked, waving his arms madly again in front of me.
“Oh yeah, sure I’m fine.�
“Oh yeah. What does that mean? You are stoned?� He asked, a little confused.
“No, I’m not stoned. Just tired and stuff.�
“Well, maybe we should leave this until tomorrow, after you’ve got some decent sleep. Then you’ll be able to concentrate more. Tonight you’re just out of it! I don’t know what’s wrong with you.� He sighed, moving off the sofa and dragging his guitar by his side.
“I’m really sorry Billie Joe. I’ve just got things on my mind.� I cried apologetically, turning around on the sofa to face him.
He stopped packing his guitar away, and got up to look at me. He looked concerned.
“You want to talk about it?� he asked, moving closer to me, a leaning over the back of the sofa.
“Maybe later. I’m just tired that’s all. Still jet-lagged.�
“Stef, you’ve been here for over 24 hours. You still don’t suffer from jet-lag nearly 2 days later.�
“I’ve never flown before. You have. You do it all the time.� I added, yawning.
“Just because I fly a lot, doesn’t mean I don’t suffer jet-lag. I get it all the time but it comes with the job.� He moved from the sofa and continued with his packing.
“Don’t you ever get sick of it?�
“Sick of what?� he questioned, lugging his guitar in its cover over his shoulder and standing up.
“Touring and stuff. I was just wondering. Don’t you ever get tired of interviews and TV appearances? It’s always been something I’ve wanted to ask you. No offence or anything.�
“None taken.� He said, a little confused at why he would have been offended. “I’ve had the press around me for about 12 years now. It’s not like it’s all new to me. It’s part of my life so, I’m used to it. And I love touring too; I get such a drive from it. Performing is what I love doing, so no, I never get sick of it. I’ve never see it as a job to be honest.�
“Just wanted to know that was all.� I said, getting up, stretching and following him towards the door. “Sorry, I think a lot.�
“Don’t worry. It’s a good thing.� He laughed.
He opened the door, and turned round to say goodbye.
“Just keep practising and stick to your choice. If you change it now, you’ll never get a good song. Just remember what I told you. And get some sleep tonight. You look awful.�
“Thanks.� I said sarcastically, sighing and looking away.
“It’s the truth. I’m only trying to help you. Get some sleep tonight. Store your energy for the audition on Thursday. You’re going to need it, believe me.�
“ I’ll try and get some sleep.� I said, smiling and leaning on the edge of the door.
He smiled THAT smile back, and walked out the door. He smiled again! This was the 5th time he had killed me.
“Oh,� he remembered. “Before I forget. I got these for you down at the shop.�
He handed me a white bag from his jacket pocket, that looked like it folded around a book of something. I took the parcel from him, studying it carefully from side to side.
“What is it?� I asked, curious. I stared into his green eyes again. They seemed to swallow me up.
“Guitar stickers.� He said smiling again. “You’re going to need them. You need to jazz your guitar up a bit. That will impress the judges.�
He leaned back into the doorway to where I was standing and planted a kiss on my cheek. Did he just kiss me again? I was confused, not that I never was though.
“See you tomorrow.� He said and then he disappeared through the door next to me.
I shut the door behind me; staring at the parcel he’d given me. Jazz up my guitar? What did he mean? Didn’t he like it? What if I didn’t want to stick a load of stickers across my guitar? Maybe I liked it the way it was because it had always been that way. It seemed a shame to change it. There was nothing on it now, but the thought of a load of stickers across it didn’t make me, lets say…happy. I walked into my bedroom and put the parcel into the top draw of the cabinet beside my bed. I didn’t even look at them. I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. God, Billie Joe was right. I did look fucking awful. It reminded me of school days. The eyeliner smudged around your eyes, making you looked stoned. And the millions of spots that stuck out a mile on your face. I did look like shit. I lay back on my bed and stared at the ceiling, and at my posters. My eyes darted from face to face. There was that always made me laugh. Billie Joe was pointing at the camera, Mike was throwing himself about behind, and in the background, Tre was pointing at Billie and gesturing that he was a wanker. I smiled. I hadn’t thought about that poster for ages. I knew Tre was only playing up to the camera, but none of them were wankers. Why was I even thinking about this? Sorry. I’m a freak. I had nothing else better to do at the moment. I looked at another poster, which Billie was pouting in. His lips looked so soft, actually…now I can say that they are soft! That kiss earlier today, after the tickling fight, what was it all about? Why didn’t Billie Joe mention it again after? Why did Adrienne have to interrupt? So many questions that no one knew the answers to. Today had been eventful. So was yesterday come to think about it. I just wish I could work things out in my head, but it was too cloudy in there to see sense. I snuggled down into my pillows, and let my eyes drop slowly. They felt so heavy. I shouldn’t go to sleep. I was still in my day clothes and my guitar stuff was still sprawled out across the suite. I didn’t trust it out there on show. I can’t go to sleep. I can’t go to sleep. What was in the brown bag that Billie had today? Oh well, I’ll ask him tomorrow. For fuck’s sake Stef! Get your arse up and put the stuff away. I can’t go to sleep. Not yet, not now.………
* * * * * * * *
I woke up with a start, the sun shining through the window and blinding me first thing in the morning. Shit, where was I? Oh crap. I had fallen asleep after all. Why hadn’t I stayed awake? I was so lazy when it came to sleep. Billie Joe was right. I had needed that sleep. He was right about most things. Dam it. I walked out of my bedroom and into the main part of the suite, to find my guitar stuff still spread out everywhere. I trod carefully over the various items, my hoody crumpled and rugged over me. There was no need for the maid to make my bed today. Since I had fallen asleep on top of the duvet, the bed was still made. My face was etched over with smudges of eyeliner and my cheeks looked drained. I yawned and let the fresh air fill my lungs. I walked out onto the balcony and looked out into the distance. The sun was just climbing over the various buildings, the light shining through to my suite. I looked down and watched the people on the ground down below. I watched them carefully, taking in their every movement until they disappeared around a corner or something. My life was such a mess. I had to sort it out, but I didn’t know how. Why couldn’t my life just stay the way it was right now? With Billie Joe, Mike and Tre? My new family. Pretty neat family if you ask me. I changed into some clean clothes and tried for ages to rub the eyeliner off of my face that had sunken into my skin. I munched lightly on my burnt toast that I had forgotten about earlier when on my guitar. I was just glad I didn’t set the fire alarms off. Now that would have been hilarious. Tre would of found it so funny. I hadn’t seen Mike or Tre lately. Well, I didn’t see Tre yesterday and Mike I only saw for about 2 minutes. Even though I had only been here for a period of 3 days, it seemed like forever since I had first met Green Day. I felt as if I had known them for ages. I felt so safe when I was around them, especially Billie Joe. The safest I had ever been in years. It was weird, very weird. I wanted to call someone so badly. Emma wasn’t going to listen, and Anna was on holiday, so who was I going to call? Oh well, I’ll think of something later. Right now I needed to concentrate on the audition. One more day and then it’ll be over. Only a few lessons from Billie Joe left before I lose out on the first audition. Might as well make the most out of my final lessons then. Oh crap. I think a lot don’t I? I should stop really, thinking fucks you up badly. I was always lost in my own little world. I call it Green Day land. You are all probably in it too. But right now, was in Green Day WORLD, not land. I was in it right now, and I don’t think I was ever going to come out of it. I was loving every minute of it, and I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.
“What the fuck is that?� Billie cried. “How the hell do you like that? You can’t call that a guitar!�
“Its kewl. It’s a weird shape.� I said, turning to look at others.
“Weird shape, right. Good to look at, but shit to play on. Nice choice.� He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at my knowledge in guitars.
“How is it shit to play on? Have you ever played it?�
“No, and I don’t think I want to either. Look at all the strings and frets, all demented and fucked up.�
“Whatever you say. You know more about the guitar world then what I do.� I told him, again starting to wonder around the warehouse known as ‘Amp’s way.’
Well, it was the size of a warehouse that would be in the UK, but to Billie Joe, it was small.
“So, then Mr. Armstrong. Are you going to tell me what’s the best guitar to play then?�
“That’s easy to work out. A Fender definitely.�
“But what sort? There seem to be tons!�
“It’s got to be a Fender Jagstang. It’s the one I play, but I thought you would have know that though.�
“What’s that supposed to mean?� I asked, suspicious.
“Oh nothing. Just thought you knew everything about me. You seem to follow me around enough.�
“Follow you around?� I asked. “I’ve never been out of the UK.�
“I mean, you know what I’m doing and when I’m doing it. You know every little detail about me. You probably know my life story and every thing I’ve ever said. It’s like you stalk me.�
“And just how the fuck did you work that one out?� I asked, smiling, but tense at the same time.
It was true, everything he said was. But I wasn’t going to admit it until he had proof.
“The posters, CD’s, thinking that I’m cute and lovely just happen to spring to mind.�
Ah. He did have proof. Shit. I could feel myself turn red in the face. It was a leading trick question. If it wasn’t true, I would of just laughed it off, and if it were true, I would be turning redder then a beetroot. I had chosen to turn into a beetroot! I looked hard at him for a few second before awkwardly turning away and looking up at the guitars that were suspended from the ceiling.
“So, where is this Fender Jagstang then? I wanna see one.� I said with my back still turned to him, trying to hide my redness.
“See, there you go. Changing the subject again. You just can’t admit that you got the hots for me.� Billie Joe laughed, clutching his side.
“Are you going to show me these guitars or not?� I asked, feeling my face turn the darkest shade of red it ever had.
“Ew!� he squealed taking the piss. “Someone’s aggressive.�
“You don’t know the half of it.� I whispered, moving aside to let him pass.
He moved from leaning on the shop shelf and walked down the aisle to show me the guitars. I followed him, keeping my head down so I wouldn’t catch eye contact with him. I just concentrated on the back of his feet moving across the shop floor.
“Here we go. Now that’s what you call a Fender Jagstang.� He said, pointing out to a brilliant blue guitar that was pinned to the wall in front of me.
I fell in love with it straight away. The colour just stood out. Kind of like me, I had always been the outsider. I represented my life in every way. I wanted it so badly. I know that sounds selfish but it was awesome. And I when I say awesome, I mean, awesome!
“I fucking love it!� I said, still transfixed on the guitar that was on the wall before me.
“Knew you would.�
“How much is it?�
Billie Joe leaned to the guitar and turned round a small tag attached to it that had the price on it.
“$440.�
“$440!?!� I screamed.
“That’s the price you pay for being talented enough to play guitar.�
“Holy Shit.� I said to myself, looking down at the floor again. “I Wish I had swapped that coke for $100 now.�
Billie Joe laughed, his eyes glinting. “I told you to swap it! But you didn’t want me to have your precious coke.�
“I’m so fucking selfish.� I said, gritting my teeth and kicking lightly the shelf in front of me that was a few centimetres off the floor.
“Hey, I was joking. You know that don’t you? Don’t blame yourself.� Billie Joe whispered softly to me, putting his hand on my shoulder and looking into my eyes that were bloodshot to the core. “We’ll figure out a way to find some money. I’m sure you have some somewhere that we can use.�
“But Billie Joe, I don’t even have any money to buy a plane ticket back home. So there’s no way I’m going to be able to pay for a new guitar.�
“Shit,� he said, slowly moving his hand from my shoulder to around my waist. “What about your hotel room? That’s gonna run out soon isn’t it?�
“ Don’t remind me please. I don’t even know where I’m going to go after. I can’t go back home. I’m stranded. The hotel runs out in about a week I think. There was only so much I could pay. I’m so screwed.�
I looked at my shoes and shifted them in frustrated and confusion. I felt Billie Joe put his other arm around me and hug me tight.
“Don’t worry,� he assured me. “Everything will work out fine. But we’ve got to get back to the hotel now. Tre and Mike will be wondering where I am and I need to give you another guitar lesson. It’s not long until the audition.�
“ Yeah, and don’t I know it.�
* * * * * * * *
Billie Joe sat on the sofa with his guitar propped up on his lap.
“So what do you want to know? Anything you want to check up on?� he asked, leaning on the top of his guitar.
“I don’t know really. Maybe some palm muting or something.� I replied, sitting next to him, exactly in the same position with my guitar on my lap.
“Do you know what you’re playing yet?�
I looked at him in horror, realising that I hadn’t even chosen a song yet. I was so unorganised. I don’t know how I was coping. I seemed to be living a lie.
“Shit! No…I don’t. Fuck. What am I gonna play?�
“I don’t know. You know what you can and can’t play. You decide.�
“But I can’t! I never know what one to do! I can’t play one perfect. All the one’s I play are good in their different ways. It depends on the song. I can’t play one that is absolutely perfect.�
“Well pick one to do and we’ll work on that one.�
“But Billie Joe, I can’t pick one! You pick one for me.�
“I can’t do that kid. Remember what I said yesterday? It’s got to be personal to you.�
Yesterday, yeah. I remember. The last time I tried to pick a personal song, I ended up upsetting Billie. Maybe I wouldn’t pick Wake Me Up When September Ends this time.
“Ok then…� I was still trying to think of a song. “I want to play a song that they’ll all know, but not an obvious one. You know what I mean?�
“Yeah I do, but like I said it’s up to you.�
God, I was going to be here forever. Billie still sat leaning on his guitar, with his arms crossed and looking right at me. I wonder what was going through his mind? Probably that I didn’t have a fucking clue what I was going on about, or maybe he was thinking why the hell he was there. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was.
“I know. What about When I Come Around? I can do that one ok.� I said, my eyes widened at the idea.
“Kewl. Good choice. Now let’s start before I die of boredom for watching you think.�
I swatted him over the head with my hand, smiling at him with admiration. He had given up so much of his time lately to be with me. Why was he doing this? Maybe he wanted something out of it at the end. Something I couldn’t give him. And I’m not thinking about sex here. He would never want to fuck me. If he did, he would need his eyes and mind tested. I was the most fucked up girl around. Well, that’s just the way I had taken things from when I was at school. I had to try and forget most of the bad things that had happened to me. I had to forget it all and get on with my life.
Billie Joe started playing When I Come Around on his guitar and it snapped me out of my trance. I watched him closely. He had such talent. I was shit compared to him. Why was I even doing this? I had no chance in winning whatsoever. God, I must have been stoned when I came up with this brainy idea! But if I hadn’t come, then I wouldn’t be sitting here next to Billie Joe. Instead, I would be looking at the posters on my wall thinking of another one of my stupid plan’s that never worked. Maybe God had felt sorry for me and made one of them work for once.
“Stef,� Billie Joe cooed, waving his hand in front of my face to grab my attention.
It felt strange him saying my name, as he always called me kid. I loved it when he called me kid. It was like he had owned me with a trademark.
“Sorry, what?� I asked dazed still.
“Your turn to play.�
“What?�
“You play it now.� He said, spelling it out for me. He leaned back onto the sofa and stretched up high with his arms. “I wanna see you play.�
I wanted to poke him in the ribs as he stretched to get him back for the tickling fight earlier. My ribs still hurt.
“Kid, are you alright? You’re not stoned or anything are you?� he asked, waving his arms madly again in front of me.
“Oh yeah, sure I’m fine.�
“Oh yeah. What does that mean? You are stoned?� He asked, a little confused.
“No, I’m not stoned. Just tired and stuff.�
“Well, maybe we should leave this until tomorrow, after you’ve got some decent sleep. Then you’ll be able to concentrate more. Tonight you’re just out of it! I don’t know what’s wrong with you.� He sighed, moving off the sofa and dragging his guitar by his side.
“I’m really sorry Billie Joe. I’ve just got things on my mind.� I cried apologetically, turning around on the sofa to face him.
He stopped packing his guitar away, and got up to look at me. He looked concerned.
“You want to talk about it?� he asked, moving closer to me, a leaning over the back of the sofa.
“Maybe later. I’m just tired that’s all. Still jet-lagged.�
“Stef, you’ve been here for over 24 hours. You still don’t suffer from jet-lag nearly 2 days later.�
“I’ve never flown before. You have. You do it all the time.� I added, yawning.
“Just because I fly a lot, doesn’t mean I don’t suffer jet-lag. I get it all the time but it comes with the job.� He moved from the sofa and continued with his packing.
“Don’t you ever get sick of it?�
“Sick of what?� he questioned, lugging his guitar in its cover over his shoulder and standing up.
“Touring and stuff. I was just wondering. Don’t you ever get tired of interviews and TV appearances? It’s always been something I’ve wanted to ask you. No offence or anything.�
“None taken.� He said, a little confused at why he would have been offended. “I’ve had the press around me for about 12 years now. It’s not like it’s all new to me. It’s part of my life so, I’m used to it. And I love touring too; I get such a drive from it. Performing is what I love doing, so no, I never get sick of it. I’ve never see it as a job to be honest.�
“Just wanted to know that was all.� I said, getting up, stretching and following him towards the door. “Sorry, I think a lot.�
“Don’t worry. It’s a good thing.� He laughed.
He opened the door, and turned round to say goodbye.
“Just keep practising and stick to your choice. If you change it now, you’ll never get a good song. Just remember what I told you. And get some sleep tonight. You look awful.�
“Thanks.� I said sarcastically, sighing and looking away.
“It’s the truth. I’m only trying to help you. Get some sleep tonight. Store your energy for the audition on Thursday. You’re going to need it, believe me.�
“ I’ll try and get some sleep.� I said, smiling and leaning on the edge of the door.
He smiled THAT smile back, and walked out the door. He smiled again! This was the 5th time he had killed me.
“Oh,� he remembered. “Before I forget. I got these for you down at the shop.�
He handed me a white bag from his jacket pocket, that looked like it folded around a book of something. I took the parcel from him, studying it carefully from side to side.
“What is it?� I asked, curious. I stared into his green eyes again. They seemed to swallow me up.
“Guitar stickers.� He said smiling again. “You’re going to need them. You need to jazz your guitar up a bit. That will impress the judges.�
He leaned back into the doorway to where I was standing and planted a kiss on my cheek. Did he just kiss me again? I was confused, not that I never was though.
“See you tomorrow.� He said and then he disappeared through the door next to me.
I shut the door behind me; staring at the parcel he’d given me. Jazz up my guitar? What did he mean? Didn’t he like it? What if I didn’t want to stick a load of stickers across my guitar? Maybe I liked it the way it was because it had always been that way. It seemed a shame to change it. There was nothing on it now, but the thought of a load of stickers across it didn’t make me, lets say…happy. I walked into my bedroom and put the parcel into the top draw of the cabinet beside my bed. I didn’t even look at them. I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. God, Billie Joe was right. I did look fucking awful. It reminded me of school days. The eyeliner smudged around your eyes, making you looked stoned. And the millions of spots that stuck out a mile on your face. I did look like shit. I lay back on my bed and stared at the ceiling, and at my posters. My eyes darted from face to face. There was that always made me laugh. Billie Joe was pointing at the camera, Mike was throwing himself about behind, and in the background, Tre was pointing at Billie and gesturing that he was a wanker. I smiled. I hadn’t thought about that poster for ages. I knew Tre was only playing up to the camera, but none of them were wankers. Why was I even thinking about this? Sorry. I’m a freak. I had nothing else better to do at the moment. I looked at another poster, which Billie was pouting in. His lips looked so soft, actually…now I can say that they are soft! That kiss earlier today, after the tickling fight, what was it all about? Why didn’t Billie Joe mention it again after? Why did Adrienne have to interrupt? So many questions that no one knew the answers to. Today had been eventful. So was yesterday come to think about it. I just wish I could work things out in my head, but it was too cloudy in there to see sense. I snuggled down into my pillows, and let my eyes drop slowly. They felt so heavy. I shouldn’t go to sleep. I was still in my day clothes and my guitar stuff was still sprawled out across the suite. I didn’t trust it out there on show. I can’t go to sleep. I can’t go to sleep. What was in the brown bag that Billie had today? Oh well, I’ll ask him tomorrow. For fuck’s sake Stef! Get your arse up and put the stuff away. I can’t go to sleep. Not yet, not now.………
* * * * * * * *
I woke up with a start, the sun shining through the window and blinding me first thing in the morning. Shit, where was I? Oh crap. I had fallen asleep after all. Why hadn’t I stayed awake? I was so lazy when it came to sleep. Billie Joe was right. I had needed that sleep. He was right about most things. Dam it. I walked out of my bedroom and into the main part of the suite, to find my guitar stuff still spread out everywhere. I trod carefully over the various items, my hoody crumpled and rugged over me. There was no need for the maid to make my bed today. Since I had fallen asleep on top of the duvet, the bed was still made. My face was etched over with smudges of eyeliner and my cheeks looked drained. I yawned and let the fresh air fill my lungs. I walked out onto the balcony and looked out into the distance. The sun was just climbing over the various buildings, the light shining through to my suite. I looked down and watched the people on the ground down below. I watched them carefully, taking in their every movement until they disappeared around a corner or something. My life was such a mess. I had to sort it out, but I didn’t know how. Why couldn’t my life just stay the way it was right now? With Billie Joe, Mike and Tre? My new family. Pretty neat family if you ask me. I changed into some clean clothes and tried for ages to rub the eyeliner off of my face that had sunken into my skin. I munched lightly on my burnt toast that I had forgotten about earlier when on my guitar. I was just glad I didn’t set the fire alarms off. Now that would have been hilarious. Tre would of found it so funny. I hadn’t seen Mike or Tre lately. Well, I didn’t see Tre yesterday and Mike I only saw for about 2 minutes. Even though I had only been here for a period of 3 days, it seemed like forever since I had first met Green Day. I felt as if I had known them for ages. I felt so safe when I was around them, especially Billie Joe. The safest I had ever been in years. It was weird, very weird. I wanted to call someone so badly. Emma wasn’t going to listen, and Anna was on holiday, so who was I going to call? Oh well, I’ll think of something later. Right now I needed to concentrate on the audition. One more day and then it’ll be over. Only a few lessons from Billie Joe left before I lose out on the first audition. Might as well make the most out of my final lessons then. Oh crap. I think a lot don’t I? I should stop really, thinking fucks you up badly. I was always lost in my own little world. I call it Green Day land. You are all probably in it too. But right now, was in Green Day WORLD, not land. I was in it right now, and I don’t think I was ever going to come out of it. I was loving every minute of it, and I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.
