And You Can't Tell Anyone, chapter 31
Later that evening, Wren was helping the guys set up in yet another bar. She crashed into Billie Joe's back when he halted unexpectedly.
Managing not to drop her armful of cords, she complained, "What are you doing?" When he did not respond, Wren looked around his shoulder. A silly smile was pasted on his face, and his head was angled down in a secretive manner. Following his line of sight, she knew immediately the cause for his halt.
A shorter young woman had just entered the bar. She had long, black, crinkly hair that tumbled down around her face. Brown eyes twinkled merrily as she smiled whilst taking her seat.
Wren poked Billie Joe in the shoulder. "Is that her?" He nodded and kept trying to stare without appearing to be staring. Wren rolled her eyes and shoved past him. "If you'd pick your jaw up off the floor, we have a show to set up for."
"Yeah, er, right." He hoisted his amp and carried it onstage. Wren, as official roadie, started hooking up the electronics. I wonder how many other girls can honestly say they know how all this works? In very little time, the band was ready to go. With a wink for Billie Joe, and a blown kiss to Mike, Wren headed for the black-haired woman.
The woman looked up as Wren approached. "Hi"
"Hey," Wren sat down at the table. "I'm Wren, Billie's roomie. You must be Adrienne."
"That I am."
"Have you seen the guys perform before?" Wren took off her jacket and slung it over the chair.
"Yeah, just once though. Back in February of last year. I didn't actually come to see them; I just wound up at a spot they were playing. It looks like they have a blast," Adrienne commented.
"Yeah. They seem to become totally lost in the moment. One with their instruments, I guess you could say." Wren smiled as Tré did a spastic and impromptu drum solo.
"But not necessarily in a calm way," Adrienne amended.
"Exactly," Wren agreed. "With Tré involved--" She paused as Billie stood up to the Mike.
"Hey, we're Green Day, and we're gonna play for you tonight. This one's called At the Library!"
Being a protective friend, Wren casually watched Adrienne out of the corner of her eye for a few moments. When it became apparent that the older woman was honestly enjoying herself, Wren relaxed. Adrienne seemed to have a genuine liking for the music. In between songs, they chatted. In Wren's opinion, Adrienne was well worth Billie Joe's pursuit.
It was becoming well into the evening, and Wren felt her conscience nagging her about homework. The guys were still jamming, and the crowd was still jumping. After one particularly heated rendition of 16, Billie Joe grabbed the mike stand. "We've got one last song! It's called 1000 Hours. There are two special ladies, right there," he pointed to Adrienne and Wren's table, "This one's for you, alright?" Mike winked and grinned like a little kid in a candy shop. Smiling uncontrollably, the two ladies shamelessly whistled and cat-called in response.
"C'mon, don't just sit there!" Tré roared.
"Wren," Mike called, "If you dance, I'll take you to the Halloween dance at the school tomorrow! Want to go?"
The crowd cheered and yelled happily as Wren and Adrienne recklessly charged into the moshing mass of people. At the end of the song all three band members discarded their instruments, and jumped into the crowd. Wren managed to meet up with Mike on the edge of the crowd.
"So, is this a yes?" he asked as he slipped an arm around her waist.
Wren planted a kiss on his cheek. "Of course. Do we have costumes?"
"We've got sheets. We could go as ghosts."
"Or as a really handsome bassist and his roadie."
Wren watched as Billie Joe led Adrienne over to a table. They sat and began chatting intently. Tré was heading for the bar, in an attempt to convince the barkeeper that he was assuredly the legal drinking age. After procuring a drink, he leaned against the bar. Feeling sorry for the lone drummer, Wren led Mike over. Lazily, Tré saluted them with his bottle.
"How's it going?" Wren asked. "You look lonely."
A wicked grin lifted the corners of Mike's mouth. "I'm sure there's a girl out there we can go get you to hang out with."
Tré laughed, "Fuck you."
"I'll do it!" Wren pulled Mike into a smouldering kiss. Breaking apart, and breathing a little quicker, she leaned against him. "We should really plan some costumes. Tré, you might need one for the rest of your school career, just so you can escape your own personal groupie."
He shook his head, "I don't know what the fuck to do about that."
"Why don't you ask her out?" Mike teased.
"Why don't you go stick that bass of yours up your tight ass?"
"Now, now," Wren said, "If you act like that, we might just have to tell her to come make you feel better."
"No," he critically inspected his nearly empty beer bottle, "This is doing a pretty good job, right now." He yawned and hollered, "Billie Joe! Are you coming?" The guitarist waved his hand in a yeah-yeah-whatever motion. "We're going to pack up and then we're going home, lover-boy!" The infatuated guitarist did not even respond.
Like true friends, Wren, Mike and Tré started packing up. To demonstrate the depth of their friendship, they kept their word and left without him. Consequently, the crushing guitarist was forced walk a few blocks before they returned (at Wren's insistence) and gave him a ride home.
Managing not to drop her armful of cords, she complained, "What are you doing?" When he did not respond, Wren looked around his shoulder. A silly smile was pasted on his face, and his head was angled down in a secretive manner. Following his line of sight, she knew immediately the cause for his halt.
A shorter young woman had just entered the bar. She had long, black, crinkly hair that tumbled down around her face. Brown eyes twinkled merrily as she smiled whilst taking her seat.
Wren poked Billie Joe in the shoulder. "Is that her?" He nodded and kept trying to stare without appearing to be staring. Wren rolled her eyes and shoved past him. "If you'd pick your jaw up off the floor, we have a show to set up for."
"Yeah, er, right." He hoisted his amp and carried it onstage. Wren, as official roadie, started hooking up the electronics. I wonder how many other girls can honestly say they know how all this works? In very little time, the band was ready to go. With a wink for Billie Joe, and a blown kiss to Mike, Wren headed for the black-haired woman.
The woman looked up as Wren approached. "Hi"
"Hey," Wren sat down at the table. "I'm Wren, Billie's roomie. You must be Adrienne."
"That I am."
"Have you seen the guys perform before?" Wren took off her jacket and slung it over the chair.
"Yeah, just once though. Back in February of last year. I didn't actually come to see them; I just wound up at a spot they were playing. It looks like they have a blast," Adrienne commented.
"Yeah. They seem to become totally lost in the moment. One with their instruments, I guess you could say." Wren smiled as Tré did a spastic and impromptu drum solo.
"But not necessarily in a calm way," Adrienne amended.
"Exactly," Wren agreed. "With Tré involved--" She paused as Billie stood up to the Mike.
"Hey, we're Green Day, and we're gonna play for you tonight. This one's called At the Library!"
Being a protective friend, Wren casually watched Adrienne out of the corner of her eye for a few moments. When it became apparent that the older woman was honestly enjoying herself, Wren relaxed. Adrienne seemed to have a genuine liking for the music. In between songs, they chatted. In Wren's opinion, Adrienne was well worth Billie Joe's pursuit.
It was becoming well into the evening, and Wren felt her conscience nagging her about homework. The guys were still jamming, and the crowd was still jumping. After one particularly heated rendition of 16, Billie Joe grabbed the mike stand. "We've got one last song! It's called 1000 Hours. There are two special ladies, right there," he pointed to Adrienne and Wren's table, "This one's for you, alright?" Mike winked and grinned like a little kid in a candy shop. Smiling uncontrollably, the two ladies shamelessly whistled and cat-called in response.
"C'mon, don't just sit there!" Tré roared.
"Wren," Mike called, "If you dance, I'll take you to the Halloween dance at the school tomorrow! Want to go?"
The crowd cheered and yelled happily as Wren and Adrienne recklessly charged into the moshing mass of people. At the end of the song all three band members discarded their instruments, and jumped into the crowd. Wren managed to meet up with Mike on the edge of the crowd.
"So, is this a yes?" he asked as he slipped an arm around her waist.
Wren planted a kiss on his cheek. "Of course. Do we have costumes?"
"We've got sheets. We could go as ghosts."
"Or as a really handsome bassist and his roadie."
Wren watched as Billie Joe led Adrienne over to a table. They sat and began chatting intently. Tré was heading for the bar, in an attempt to convince the barkeeper that he was assuredly the legal drinking age. After procuring a drink, he leaned against the bar. Feeling sorry for the lone drummer, Wren led Mike over. Lazily, Tré saluted them with his bottle.
"How's it going?" Wren asked. "You look lonely."
A wicked grin lifted the corners of Mike's mouth. "I'm sure there's a girl out there we can go get you to hang out with."
Tré laughed, "Fuck you."
"I'll do it!" Wren pulled Mike into a smouldering kiss. Breaking apart, and breathing a little quicker, she leaned against him. "We should really plan some costumes. Tré, you might need one for the rest of your school career, just so you can escape your own personal groupie."
He shook his head, "I don't know what the fuck to do about that."
"Why don't you ask her out?" Mike teased.
"Why don't you go stick that bass of yours up your tight ass?"
"Now, now," Wren said, "If you act like that, we might just have to tell her to come make you feel better."
"No," he critically inspected his nearly empty beer bottle, "This is doing a pretty good job, right now." He yawned and hollered, "Billie Joe! Are you coming?" The guitarist waved his hand in a yeah-yeah-whatever motion. "We're going to pack up and then we're going home, lover-boy!" The infatuated guitarist did not even respond.
Like true friends, Wren, Mike and Tré started packing up. To demonstrate the depth of their friendship, they kept their word and left without him. Consequently, the crushing guitarist was forced walk a few blocks before they returned (at Wren's insistence) and gave him a ride home.
