Making your mascara bleed, chapter 1
Frankie stepped out onto the pitch black stage; she could here the murmur of the crowd and couldn't help but smile. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around her guitar in a death grip and she listened to symbols rattle behind her, probably from Kris bumping into them. Kris had to be the biggest klutz Frankie new. If there were a parking lot with a quarter sized piece of black ice, she would find it, step on it and accidentally slip. But she still loved her with all her heart, dearly not queerly. She heard the distinctive noise of Arlen as he stepped up beside her.
"Nervous?" he whispered into her ear. Even in the dark she could tell he was smiling.
"Not even a little," she lied back.
Why should she be nervous? She, Arlen, and Kristina had been in the music biz since they were 16 and she was now 29. They were one of the biggest bands on the planet and swept the Grammies on a regular basis. They were and always would be the Punk Irish band from Montreal and she would have it no other way.
Frankie was tiny, vertically challenged if you will. She stood at a grand height of 5"2 but what she lacked in tallness she more then made up for with spunk. She had waist length blond hair that had been streaked with every imaginable colour in the past years. At this current moment it was hosting an array of hot pink streaks. She had (fortunately) inherited her mom's long French legs instead of the stubby short ones that plagued her Dad's side of the family. She had instead received the pale Irish skin that burned instead of tanned. This was a pain in the ass when her band went to hot tropical climates. The only part of herself she truly loved were her green eyes. In the words of her late Nana "they are like the emerald isles themselves"... or something like that. Apparently though guys thought she was hot as she had been on the cover of Maxim magazine twice. A feat that her band mates would never let her live down. Kris her best friend was much taller. She sported a model like 5'8 body with all the right curves in all the right places. She had shoulder length black hair with copper streaks that she spiked out in every direction. Arlen on the other hand was the tallest fucker Frankie had ever laid eyes on. When he and she went out for lunch there were countless times Arlen was asked how old his daughter (Frankie) was. He was their Amazon man standing 6'6 with flaming red hair and every facial piercing imaginable.
Frankie snapped back to reality when the fog machines kicked on spewing purple fog all over the stage. Low lights went on cascading an eerie glow over the scene. She could here the roar of the crowd that had in their earlier years scared the shit out of her. The multiple screens behind them turned on and displayed psychedelic colours that reminded her of a bad acid trip. A loud clear voice came over the speakers that filled the large stadium "And now singing their recent hit song "White Rabbit" put you hands together for the one... . the only... .Durban Poison! The house lights flashed on so quickly Frankie was momentarily blinded. The house was packed and suddenly her nervousness reached its peak. Not only were they playing in front of fans but in front of fellow bands as well. Bands who would judge any mistakes they made with extreme prejudice. The MTV cameras zoomed in as Arlen started the song. It began like most of their songs with that low beat sixties vibe. It went well with the band name which was a type of cannabis. Sure they had been lobbied against by many groups claiming the name influenced young teens. And Frankie guessed the fact that most of their songs, well the ones that weren't bashing the government, were about drug trips. But screw 'em all!
Her cue came and she strummed her electric guitar as Kris started to beat on the drums. Her mind suddenly went blank and her voice took over as the beat picked up. She and Arlen jumped into the air slamming back onto the ground as flames poured from either side courtesy of the pyro team. Frankie licked her lips and leaned into the microphone her mind racing for the words. Seconds before it was time they all flooded back into her mind and she started to sing.
"One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at alllllll
Go ask Alice
When she's ten feet tall"
Frankie smiled as she turned to the side and winked at Arlem. He smiled back as he swung his guitar around causing excited screams from the crowd.
And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you're going to falllllllll
Tell 'em a hookah smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call
Call Alice
When she's climbing up your wall
More fire works shot out from behind them as Kris assaulted the drums in a frenzy of symbols.
When men on the chessboard
Get up and tell you where to go
And you've just had some kind of mushroom
And your mind is moving slow
Go ask Alice
I think she'll knowwwwwww
Frankie's eyes had finally adjusted and she surveyed the various artists that sat feet away from her. She was happy that many of them were smiling. Beside her to the left hundreds of fans jumped around flailing glow sticks that she was sure her manager had insisted be distributed before the song. It added to the whole drug vibe as some people had broken them open and were throwing the contents onto their neighbors.
"When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's "off with her head!"
Remember what the dormouse said:
"Feed your head
Feed your head
Feeeeeeed yoooouuurrr hhhheeeaaadddd!"
Frankie breathed a sigh if relief as the song ended. It was the MTV awards finale so she decided to give them a little extra. She walked to the front of the stage and passed her guitar into the crowd of screaming teens. Kris followed suit and chucked her drumsticks as far as she could. She then turned and kicked her drum set over. Arlen laughed and smashed his bass into the ground which caused the audience to scream and cheer for more. Frankie jumped on Arlen's back and they ran off the stage laughing hysterically. Kris did cartwheels following right behind them.
"Awesome show you guys," shouted Brad their manager.
"Thanks," Frankie said as she cracked open a bottle of water. "God it was so fucking hot out their."
"Well... it is Miami," laughed Kris as she crashed on the couch.
"What do you think you're doing... get up," cried Brad as he grabbed Kris's arm. "The media circus is waiting to take your pictures with the awards you won."
The three of them groaned as Brad led them behind the stage. Frankie could hear the clicking of camera shutters in the distance and she cringed at the noise. If there was one thing she hated more than teenie boppers it was the paparazzi. Ever since her divorce they had been all over her; like wolves on a carcass. The three rounded the corner and were immediately assaulted with bright lights.
"Smile," said Brad through grinning teeth as cameras zoomed in their face.
"How can I smile if I can't see?" said Kris sarcastically.
Frankie let out a loud laugh at her comment as she looked around. Sure enough there were bands everywhere holding the awards they had won from the night. Though Durban Poison had done exceptionally well award wise, the true winners were Green Day. Frankie new that their album this year hadn't been their best. The divorce had left her in a kind of bottomless pit and she had lost her creative edge. But thanks to Arlem they had made a half decent album and still managed to haul in some awards.
"Hey Frankie what do you have to say about your ex getting married," one of the camera man yelled.
Frankie glared up at the man and spat out. "I don't give a flying fuck about my ex!"
And with that she turned and walked off the red carpet. She new they would say something but she was caught off guard by her reaction. She had loved Gage with all her heart only to have it ripped out. She had walked in on him and the maid when she arrived home from her last tour. Instead of begging and pleading for her to forgive him he mailed divorce papers. Nice guy eh.
"Frankie wait up!"
Frankie turned around to see Kris running as fast as she could with stilettos.
"What was that all about, since when did you let the camera dudes get to your head?"
"Since they started digging a little too deep into my personal life," said Frankie as she wiped a tear from her eye.
"Hey don't worry about it; there are plenty of fish the sea... ..especially for someone who has been on the Maxim cover!"
"Bitch!" Frankie cried as she mocked offense.
"Come on lets go grab a drink," said Kris as she linked arms with Frankie.
The two women walked along the red carpet to their limo that was waiting at the end. They got in not waiting for valet to open the door.
"Oops sorry wrong car!" laughed Kris when she noticed three men already sitting in the back.
"No don't worry about it, get in!" said the shorter of the three. "Hey you guys are Durban Poison... right?"
"The one and only," said Frankie as she extended her hand. "Frankie Duplessis."
"Tre Cool," said the man as he winked suggestively. "And this is Mike and Billie Joe."
"oooooh... Green Day," smiled Kris as she shook each mans hand. "So are you guys staying at the Fairmont?"
"Of course," smiled Tre as he padded the seat beside him.
"Mind if we get a ride?" asked Frankie rolling her eyes at how much of a flirt the two were.
"Aren't you guys missing a band member?" asked Billie.
"You mean Arlen, he's kindly staying behind for some photos. He's good like that," smiled Frankie as she sunk into the soft leather car seat.
"You guys were kick ass tonight," said Mike.
"Thanks, you guys were awesome and congrats on the awards"
All three men blushed and an awkward silence fell over the car. It was broken when Frankie's cell phone rang to the tune of fuck authority.
"Hello?" said Frankie mouthing apologies to the occupants of the car who waved it off.
"Arlen... what... no... we told Brad... well sorry... ok... yep... love you too... bye."
"I take it Arlen didn't know we were leaving," asked Kris.
"Nope, but he said he would meet us at the bar in the hotel."
"Sweet, we shall have a reward drunkening for our good work!" Kris said clapping your hands together.
"A reward drunkening," smiled Billie Joe. "Those are the best kind."
***
They arrived at the hotel in descent time and pilled out of the limo. Kris made a direct bee-line for the bar as Frankie turned around.
"Hey, you guys are welcome to join us," she asked politely.
"Sorry, our flight leaves early tomorrow morning so we have to get some shut eye," said Mike a tone of disappointment in his voice. "But how about next time we meet up we owe you a beer."
"Sounds good," smiled Frankie as she waved and turned around to join Kris.
Needless to say when Arlen arrived an hour later he was greeted by two very drunk band members.
"Thanks for waiting," he said sarcastically as he slid into the booth
"ARLEN! Wed tho'ght youg forgob bout us," Frankie said slurring her words.
"Oh God Frankie you're breath smells like tequila and nachos," Arlen laughed putting his arm around her shoulder.
"Weld doyou wan a beer?" asked Kris laughing hysterically at her own voice.
"I was thinking of maybe going to one of those after show parties but it looks like you guys started your own one right here"
"Damn straight!," yelled Frankie loud enough for people in the bar to turn and stare.
"Shhhhh Frankie," Arlen laughed.
"Shit was I loud," she asked putting her hands over her mouth as she tried to hold in giggles.
"Well I'm going to head over do you guys wanna come?"
"I will," said Kris as she shakily got to her feet.
"I'm twired ug guys," Frankie mumbled as she slid of the seat. "Seeg u tomorrow."
With that Frankie turned towards the lobby and stumbled out. Arlen watched and couldn't help but laugh to himself.
It was a complete blur all around her as Frankie walked towards the elevator. She was leaning against the wall to keep herself from falling over. It must have been quite a sight. She tripped into the elevator and watched without blinking as the number display climbed. When she reached the 19th floor the doors opened to allow people in. Three men walked in trailing suitcases behind them.
"Green Dway!" she laughed as the elevators closed. All three men turned to look at Frankie who was pretty much sitting in the corner.
"Hey! Frankie!" said Tre as he helped her up. "Had much to drink tonight?"
Frankie just hiccupped which caused all three men to erupt with laughter.
"Do you need help getting back to your hotel room?" asked Billie Joe as he caught her before she tumbled.
"Twat would be much a... a... appreciated," she laughed.
Mike was over in the corner his hand over his eyes as he shook from laughing.
"Where's everyone else?" asked Tre.
"Party," she mumbled as she brushed her fingers along the smooth steel of the elevator walls.
The elevator door opened and Frankie walked out as gracefully as she could. The three men were behind her as she led the way to her room.
"Here I am," Frankie said as she fumbled to fit the key in the lock.
"Here allow me," said Billie Joe as he unlocked the door.
"Thank-you!," Frankie said as she waved goodbye to them for the second time that night.
With that she turned around and closed the door. And that was the last thing she remembered. Frankie woke up the next morning in the bathroom tub still in the clothes from the previous night. Her head felt like it was being spilt in half and to make matters worst her back was killing her from the hard surface she had slept on. Frankie dragged herself out of the tub into the bedroom where a room service cart had been placed.
"I ordered room service?" she asked herself running her fingers through her tangled hair.
She pulled the silver cover off the plate and was met with the beady eyes of a cooked lobster.
"Oi! That's fucking nasty." she yelled as she ran back into the washroom to throw up.
Frankie emerged several minutes later gargling mouthwash. The lobster seemed to stare at her from across the room on its bed of lettuce. She gingerly touched its shell which was ice cold.
"Why do I always order lobster when I'm drunk?" she thought as she got changed.
The small digital clock that sat on the side table read 8:48. There was no way in hell that either Arlen or Kris would be up. She was even surprised how she had managed to wake herself this early in the morning. Shrugging it off Frankie headed downstairs to grab some coffee and if she was lucky, aspirin. The lobby was surprisingly quiet as she walked across the soft carpet towards the exit. This was Miami there had to be a Starbucks every block. Sure enough in a matter of minutes Frankie walked into the aroma filled coffee shop.
"What can I get you ma'am," asked the young disgustingly preppy coffee guy behind the counter. Frankie was glad he didn't recognize her even though she was wearing large sunglasses and a hood over her hair.
"A 2 shot espresso... can you make one with three shots?" she asked.
"Umm sorry ma'am... "
Frankie slid a five across the counter. "Make it four," she smiled.
Frankie walked out of the shop with her cup of pure concentrated caffeine and began the journey back to the hotel. The air was warm but she still felt cold and pulled her hoody tight around her shoulders. As she was walking she passed by a small counter culture boutique that sat off of the main street. A neon sign hung from the window displaying the words open. Frankie chucked the now empty cup of coffee and went inside. The interior smelled of incense and the faint aroma of weed. The walls were lined with bongs, pipes and band shirts. She smiled to herself it reminded her all to well of the "Altered Native" the store she worked at when she was younger.
"Can I help you," asked a dreadlocked teen from behind the counter.
"Do you guys do piercings?" Frankie asked trying to think of a reason she was in the store.
"Yep," she girl said as she continued to open up some boxes.
It was only nine and Frankie felt like doing something spontaneous.
"How much do you guys charge for a Monroe?"
Thirty minutes later Frankie left the store with a metal stud to the right of her nose and just above her lip. The guys were going to freak when they saw it but she had wanted one for a long time. Her whole face throbbed from the pain of the piercing but it didn't matter, just as long as it didn't get caught in anything.
***
September 2nd, 2005
The members of Durban Poison stepped off of the plane onto the cool tarmac at the Montreal Trudeau Airport. It was unusually warm for this time of the year considering Montréal's long history of cold fierce winter weather. For Frankie it was just the feeling of being home after a long year of touring that made her feel like she was walking on a cloud. Her Arlen and Kris were laughing and talking about sleeping for at least twenty hours when they got home as they walked through customs. Kris hated plane rides more than anything else so her joy just came from being on solid ground. While Arlen and Kris would be returning to their families and kids Frankie would be going home to an empty home. It was a feeling that masked the happiness and sense of completion about being home. They all said their goodbyes at the entrance and hailed separate taxis. Arlen was already talking about a party he would be throwing in a few days but Frankie apologized that she might have to pass on the excuse that she was completely worn out. She was the last to leave and she sat at the front entrance on a concrete bench that was a cool refresher from the muggy air. When her taxi arrived she put her bags in the bag and got in. The ride home was slow as the traffic was heavy due to rush hour.
"I never remembered rush hour being this busy before," she commented to the taxi driver.
"It's that damn Green day concert," he replied back in a thick French accent. "Any concert here draws in hoards of people."
Frankie sat back in her seat and stared out at Mont Royal; the large mountain like hill that was visible from every part of the city. She had had no idea they would be performing a concert, she was even considering attending accept for the nagging voice at the back of her mind that said 'You need sleep'. Her home was a site for soar eyes as the taxi cab stopped at the front gates. The man had offered to drive the car to the front entrance but she needed some fresh air and a cigarette.
Later that night Frankie sat in the bathtub which had been filled to the brim with bubbles. In her right hand she held a bottle of wine that was almost finished. She couldn't believe the irony in the fact that the wine she had randomly chosen was a left over bottle from her and Greg's wedding. That alone had almost turned her into a blubbering mess. When she got out of the tub she walked over to her answering machine that had an obscene amount of messages on it. She scrawled down the list and noticed an id tag for an unknown caller. She had to listen to it. She got kicks from when fans found her number and left messages. To her surprise the voice on the other end was no fan.
"Hey Frankie... ummm... this is Billie Joe... from Green day... . I just called to see if you were in Montreal ... but I uhhh guess not." Frankie had to smile at the fact that both her and Billie shared the similarity in leaving long rambling phone messages. "Well if you get this before September 4th just give me a call... ..uh... talk to you later."
Frankie sat still on the chair across from the counter that held the answering machine. She stared at the machine with a slight smile on her face. Even though she had told Arlen she was too tired for a party she never said she was too tired to go hang out with another band doing un-party related things. But it was already 2 in the morning so she decided to delay the call back until morning. She walked up the flight of stairs that led to the top floor slowly taking in every part of her home. The wall to the left of the staircase was still covered in photos of her and Greg. Tomorrow she was going to have a fire in her fire place and they would be the kindling. Frankie stepped into her room which seemed bare and foreign without Greg's things. Hugging the bottle of wine Frankie slipped between the sheets and lay her head down on the pillow. The past year had been full of so many late nights and loud noises that the absence of sound seemed to keep her awake. It wasn't until the sun started to become visible in the sky that she finally fell asleep.
"Nervous?" he whispered into her ear. Even in the dark she could tell he was smiling.
"Not even a little," she lied back.
Why should she be nervous? She, Arlen, and Kristina had been in the music biz since they were 16 and she was now 29. They were one of the biggest bands on the planet and swept the Grammies on a regular basis. They were and always would be the Punk Irish band from Montreal and she would have it no other way.
Frankie was tiny, vertically challenged if you will. She stood at a grand height of 5"2 but what she lacked in tallness she more then made up for with spunk. She had waist length blond hair that had been streaked with every imaginable colour in the past years. At this current moment it was hosting an array of hot pink streaks. She had (fortunately) inherited her mom's long French legs instead of the stubby short ones that plagued her Dad's side of the family. She had instead received the pale Irish skin that burned instead of tanned. This was a pain in the ass when her band went to hot tropical climates. The only part of herself she truly loved were her green eyes. In the words of her late Nana "they are like the emerald isles themselves"... or something like that. Apparently though guys thought she was hot as she had been on the cover of Maxim magazine twice. A feat that her band mates would never let her live down. Kris her best friend was much taller. She sported a model like 5'8 body with all the right curves in all the right places. She had shoulder length black hair with copper streaks that she spiked out in every direction. Arlen on the other hand was the tallest fucker Frankie had ever laid eyes on. When he and she went out for lunch there were countless times Arlen was asked how old his daughter (Frankie) was. He was their Amazon man standing 6'6 with flaming red hair and every facial piercing imaginable.
Frankie snapped back to reality when the fog machines kicked on spewing purple fog all over the stage. Low lights went on cascading an eerie glow over the scene. She could here the roar of the crowd that had in their earlier years scared the shit out of her. The multiple screens behind them turned on and displayed psychedelic colours that reminded her of a bad acid trip. A loud clear voice came over the speakers that filled the large stadium "And now singing their recent hit song "White Rabbit" put you hands together for the one... . the only... .Durban Poison! The house lights flashed on so quickly Frankie was momentarily blinded. The house was packed and suddenly her nervousness reached its peak. Not only were they playing in front of fans but in front of fellow bands as well. Bands who would judge any mistakes they made with extreme prejudice. The MTV cameras zoomed in as Arlen started the song. It began like most of their songs with that low beat sixties vibe. It went well with the band name which was a type of cannabis. Sure they had been lobbied against by many groups claiming the name influenced young teens. And Frankie guessed the fact that most of their songs, well the ones that weren't bashing the government, were about drug trips. But screw 'em all!
Her cue came and she strummed her electric guitar as Kris started to beat on the drums. Her mind suddenly went blank and her voice took over as the beat picked up. She and Arlen jumped into the air slamming back onto the ground as flames poured from either side courtesy of the pyro team. Frankie licked her lips and leaned into the microphone her mind racing for the words. Seconds before it was time they all flooded back into her mind and she started to sing.
"One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at alllllll
Go ask Alice
When she's ten feet tall"
Frankie smiled as she turned to the side and winked at Arlem. He smiled back as he swung his guitar around causing excited screams from the crowd.
And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you're going to falllllllll
Tell 'em a hookah smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call
Call Alice
When she's climbing up your wall
More fire works shot out from behind them as Kris assaulted the drums in a frenzy of symbols.
When men on the chessboard
Get up and tell you where to go
And you've just had some kind of mushroom
And your mind is moving slow
Go ask Alice
I think she'll knowwwwwww
Frankie's eyes had finally adjusted and she surveyed the various artists that sat feet away from her. She was happy that many of them were smiling. Beside her to the left hundreds of fans jumped around flailing glow sticks that she was sure her manager had insisted be distributed before the song. It added to the whole drug vibe as some people had broken them open and were throwing the contents onto their neighbors.
"When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's "off with her head!"
Remember what the dormouse said:
"Feed your head
Feed your head
Feeeeeeed yoooouuurrr hhhheeeaaadddd!"
Frankie breathed a sigh if relief as the song ended. It was the MTV awards finale so she decided to give them a little extra. She walked to the front of the stage and passed her guitar into the crowd of screaming teens. Kris followed suit and chucked her drumsticks as far as she could. She then turned and kicked her drum set over. Arlen laughed and smashed his bass into the ground which caused the audience to scream and cheer for more. Frankie jumped on Arlen's back and they ran off the stage laughing hysterically. Kris did cartwheels following right behind them.
"Awesome show you guys," shouted Brad their manager.
"Thanks," Frankie said as she cracked open a bottle of water. "God it was so fucking hot out their."
"Well... it is Miami," laughed Kris as she crashed on the couch.
"What do you think you're doing... get up," cried Brad as he grabbed Kris's arm. "The media circus is waiting to take your pictures with the awards you won."
The three of them groaned as Brad led them behind the stage. Frankie could hear the clicking of camera shutters in the distance and she cringed at the noise. If there was one thing she hated more than teenie boppers it was the paparazzi. Ever since her divorce they had been all over her; like wolves on a carcass. The three rounded the corner and were immediately assaulted with bright lights.
"Smile," said Brad through grinning teeth as cameras zoomed in their face.
"How can I smile if I can't see?" said Kris sarcastically.
Frankie let out a loud laugh at her comment as she looked around. Sure enough there were bands everywhere holding the awards they had won from the night. Though Durban Poison had done exceptionally well award wise, the true winners were Green Day. Frankie new that their album this year hadn't been their best. The divorce had left her in a kind of bottomless pit and she had lost her creative edge. But thanks to Arlem they had made a half decent album and still managed to haul in some awards.
"Hey Frankie what do you have to say about your ex getting married," one of the camera man yelled.
Frankie glared up at the man and spat out. "I don't give a flying fuck about my ex!"
And with that she turned and walked off the red carpet. She new they would say something but she was caught off guard by her reaction. She had loved Gage with all her heart only to have it ripped out. She had walked in on him and the maid when she arrived home from her last tour. Instead of begging and pleading for her to forgive him he mailed divorce papers. Nice guy eh.
"Frankie wait up!"
Frankie turned around to see Kris running as fast as she could with stilettos.
"What was that all about, since when did you let the camera dudes get to your head?"
"Since they started digging a little too deep into my personal life," said Frankie as she wiped a tear from her eye.
"Hey don't worry about it; there are plenty of fish the sea... ..especially for someone who has been on the Maxim cover!"
"Bitch!" Frankie cried as she mocked offense.
"Come on lets go grab a drink," said Kris as she linked arms with Frankie.
The two women walked along the red carpet to their limo that was waiting at the end. They got in not waiting for valet to open the door.
"Oops sorry wrong car!" laughed Kris when she noticed three men already sitting in the back.
"No don't worry about it, get in!" said the shorter of the three. "Hey you guys are Durban Poison... right?"
"The one and only," said Frankie as she extended her hand. "Frankie Duplessis."
"Tre Cool," said the man as he winked suggestively. "And this is Mike and Billie Joe."
"oooooh... Green Day," smiled Kris as she shook each mans hand. "So are you guys staying at the Fairmont?"
"Of course," smiled Tre as he padded the seat beside him.
"Mind if we get a ride?" asked Frankie rolling her eyes at how much of a flirt the two were.
"Aren't you guys missing a band member?" asked Billie.
"You mean Arlen, he's kindly staying behind for some photos. He's good like that," smiled Frankie as she sunk into the soft leather car seat.
"You guys were kick ass tonight," said Mike.
"Thanks, you guys were awesome and congrats on the awards"
All three men blushed and an awkward silence fell over the car. It was broken when Frankie's cell phone rang to the tune of fuck authority.
"Hello?" said Frankie mouthing apologies to the occupants of the car who waved it off.
"Arlen... what... no... we told Brad... well sorry... ok... yep... love you too... bye."
"I take it Arlen didn't know we were leaving," asked Kris.
"Nope, but he said he would meet us at the bar in the hotel."
"Sweet, we shall have a reward drunkening for our good work!" Kris said clapping your hands together.
"A reward drunkening," smiled Billie Joe. "Those are the best kind."
***
They arrived at the hotel in descent time and pilled out of the limo. Kris made a direct bee-line for the bar as Frankie turned around.
"Hey, you guys are welcome to join us," she asked politely.
"Sorry, our flight leaves early tomorrow morning so we have to get some shut eye," said Mike a tone of disappointment in his voice. "But how about next time we meet up we owe you a beer."
"Sounds good," smiled Frankie as she waved and turned around to join Kris.
Needless to say when Arlen arrived an hour later he was greeted by two very drunk band members.
"Thanks for waiting," he said sarcastically as he slid into the booth
"ARLEN! Wed tho'ght youg forgob bout us," Frankie said slurring her words.
"Oh God Frankie you're breath smells like tequila and nachos," Arlen laughed putting his arm around her shoulder.
"Weld doyou wan a beer?" asked Kris laughing hysterically at her own voice.
"I was thinking of maybe going to one of those after show parties but it looks like you guys started your own one right here"
"Damn straight!," yelled Frankie loud enough for people in the bar to turn and stare.
"Shhhhh Frankie," Arlen laughed.
"Shit was I loud," she asked putting her hands over her mouth as she tried to hold in giggles.
"Well I'm going to head over do you guys wanna come?"
"I will," said Kris as she shakily got to her feet.
"I'm twired ug guys," Frankie mumbled as she slid of the seat. "Seeg u tomorrow."
With that Frankie turned towards the lobby and stumbled out. Arlen watched and couldn't help but laugh to himself.
It was a complete blur all around her as Frankie walked towards the elevator. She was leaning against the wall to keep herself from falling over. It must have been quite a sight. She tripped into the elevator and watched without blinking as the number display climbed. When she reached the 19th floor the doors opened to allow people in. Three men walked in trailing suitcases behind them.
"Green Dway!" she laughed as the elevators closed. All three men turned to look at Frankie who was pretty much sitting in the corner.
"Hey! Frankie!" said Tre as he helped her up. "Had much to drink tonight?"
Frankie just hiccupped which caused all three men to erupt with laughter.
"Do you need help getting back to your hotel room?" asked Billie Joe as he caught her before she tumbled.
"Twat would be much a... a... appreciated," she laughed.
Mike was over in the corner his hand over his eyes as he shook from laughing.
"Where's everyone else?" asked Tre.
"Party," she mumbled as she brushed her fingers along the smooth steel of the elevator walls.
The elevator door opened and Frankie walked out as gracefully as she could. The three men were behind her as she led the way to her room.
"Here I am," Frankie said as she fumbled to fit the key in the lock.
"Here allow me," said Billie Joe as he unlocked the door.
"Thank-you!," Frankie said as she waved goodbye to them for the second time that night.
With that she turned around and closed the door. And that was the last thing she remembered. Frankie woke up the next morning in the bathroom tub still in the clothes from the previous night. Her head felt like it was being spilt in half and to make matters worst her back was killing her from the hard surface she had slept on. Frankie dragged herself out of the tub into the bedroom where a room service cart had been placed.
"I ordered room service?" she asked herself running her fingers through her tangled hair.
She pulled the silver cover off the plate and was met with the beady eyes of a cooked lobster.
"Oi! That's fucking nasty." she yelled as she ran back into the washroom to throw up.
Frankie emerged several minutes later gargling mouthwash. The lobster seemed to stare at her from across the room on its bed of lettuce. She gingerly touched its shell which was ice cold.
"Why do I always order lobster when I'm drunk?" she thought as she got changed.
The small digital clock that sat on the side table read 8:48. There was no way in hell that either Arlen or Kris would be up. She was even surprised how she had managed to wake herself this early in the morning. Shrugging it off Frankie headed downstairs to grab some coffee and if she was lucky, aspirin. The lobby was surprisingly quiet as she walked across the soft carpet towards the exit. This was Miami there had to be a Starbucks every block. Sure enough in a matter of minutes Frankie walked into the aroma filled coffee shop.
"What can I get you ma'am," asked the young disgustingly preppy coffee guy behind the counter. Frankie was glad he didn't recognize her even though she was wearing large sunglasses and a hood over her hair.
"A 2 shot espresso... can you make one with three shots?" she asked.
"Umm sorry ma'am... "
Frankie slid a five across the counter. "Make it four," she smiled.
Frankie walked out of the shop with her cup of pure concentrated caffeine and began the journey back to the hotel. The air was warm but she still felt cold and pulled her hoody tight around her shoulders. As she was walking she passed by a small counter culture boutique that sat off of the main street. A neon sign hung from the window displaying the words open. Frankie chucked the now empty cup of coffee and went inside. The interior smelled of incense and the faint aroma of weed. The walls were lined with bongs, pipes and band shirts. She smiled to herself it reminded her all to well of the "Altered Native" the store she worked at when she was younger.
"Can I help you," asked a dreadlocked teen from behind the counter.
"Do you guys do piercings?" Frankie asked trying to think of a reason she was in the store.
"Yep," she girl said as she continued to open up some boxes.
It was only nine and Frankie felt like doing something spontaneous.
"How much do you guys charge for a Monroe?"
Thirty minutes later Frankie left the store with a metal stud to the right of her nose and just above her lip. The guys were going to freak when they saw it but she had wanted one for a long time. Her whole face throbbed from the pain of the piercing but it didn't matter, just as long as it didn't get caught in anything.
***
September 2nd, 2005
The members of Durban Poison stepped off of the plane onto the cool tarmac at the Montreal Trudeau Airport. It was unusually warm for this time of the year considering Montréal's long history of cold fierce winter weather. For Frankie it was just the feeling of being home after a long year of touring that made her feel like she was walking on a cloud. Her Arlen and Kris were laughing and talking about sleeping for at least twenty hours when they got home as they walked through customs. Kris hated plane rides more than anything else so her joy just came from being on solid ground. While Arlen and Kris would be returning to their families and kids Frankie would be going home to an empty home. It was a feeling that masked the happiness and sense of completion about being home. They all said their goodbyes at the entrance and hailed separate taxis. Arlen was already talking about a party he would be throwing in a few days but Frankie apologized that she might have to pass on the excuse that she was completely worn out. She was the last to leave and she sat at the front entrance on a concrete bench that was a cool refresher from the muggy air. When her taxi arrived she put her bags in the bag and got in. The ride home was slow as the traffic was heavy due to rush hour.
"I never remembered rush hour being this busy before," she commented to the taxi driver.
"It's that damn Green day concert," he replied back in a thick French accent. "Any concert here draws in hoards of people."
Frankie sat back in her seat and stared out at Mont Royal; the large mountain like hill that was visible from every part of the city. She had had no idea they would be performing a concert, she was even considering attending accept for the nagging voice at the back of her mind that said 'You need sleep'. Her home was a site for soar eyes as the taxi cab stopped at the front gates. The man had offered to drive the car to the front entrance but she needed some fresh air and a cigarette.
Later that night Frankie sat in the bathtub which had been filled to the brim with bubbles. In her right hand she held a bottle of wine that was almost finished. She couldn't believe the irony in the fact that the wine she had randomly chosen was a left over bottle from her and Greg's wedding. That alone had almost turned her into a blubbering mess. When she got out of the tub she walked over to her answering machine that had an obscene amount of messages on it. She scrawled down the list and noticed an id tag for an unknown caller. She had to listen to it. She got kicks from when fans found her number and left messages. To her surprise the voice on the other end was no fan.
"Hey Frankie... ummm... this is Billie Joe... from Green day... . I just called to see if you were in Montreal ... but I uhhh guess not." Frankie had to smile at the fact that both her and Billie shared the similarity in leaving long rambling phone messages. "Well if you get this before September 4th just give me a call... ..uh... talk to you later."
Frankie sat still on the chair across from the counter that held the answering machine. She stared at the machine with a slight smile on her face. Even though she had told Arlen she was too tired for a party she never said she was too tired to go hang out with another band doing un-party related things. But it was already 2 in the morning so she decided to delay the call back until morning. She walked up the flight of stairs that led to the top floor slowly taking in every part of her home. The wall to the left of the staircase was still covered in photos of her and Greg. Tomorrow she was going to have a fire in her fire place and they would be the kindling. Frankie stepped into her room which seemed bare and foreign without Greg's things. Hugging the bottle of wine Frankie slipped between the sheets and lay her head down on the pillow. The past year had been full of so many late nights and loud noises that the absence of sound seemed to keep her awake. It wasn't until the sun started to become visible in the sky that she finally fell asleep.
