Boulevard Of Broken Lives, chapter 2
I sat back down on the couch feeling rather apprehensive. I drummed my fingers nervously along the leather arm of the chair, and jumped when I heard the front door opening. Naturally, the kids ran in first. It was how I anticipated. "Isabel! Isabel! Come and play with us!" Joey whined, as he tugged on my arm. "Joseph Marciano!" Adrienne said sternly as she hung her coat up. She only used his full name when he was in trouble. "Where are your manners?! Come on, you are going up to wash your hands and get changed before you do anything! Same to you Jakob, upstairs!" She beckoned the two boys over to her. I still couldn't get over how identical Joey looked to Billie, and how much Jakob resembled his mother. They really were great kids. "Don't worry, I'll play with you later Joey. I promise!" I said waving at him as he resorted to tears, stamping up the stairs with Adrienne behind him. "Humph. Both kids' godfather and not even a hello!" Tré laughed jokingly as the boys went out of sight.
Mike came in then, with Estelle on his shoulders. "Okay, last stop! The father express has now reached its final destination!" He said in a comical voice, making her giggle. He lifted her off his shoulders, and safely to the ground. He squinted his eyes with pain as he moved his back, but tried to be inconspicuous. "Again! I want to go again, Daddy!" Estelle said avidly jumping up and down. "Oh not now, Daddy's tired. Maybe later." He said, making his way over to the nearest arm chair. "Why don't you go up and help the boys wash their hands, eh?" She nodded, and ran up the stairs. "God, what a great kid! Such energy, for an eight year old!" Mike smiled to himself as he reached over to pick up a book sitting on the coffee table. I loved the way Mike cared for his daughter. She was his world, and his eyes always seemed to light up when he was just in her company. He made her so happy as well. "Pppfff..... You aint seen nothing till you've seen my Ramona! Now there's a kid with copious amounts of energy! Think me..... By two!" Tré laughed as he took a swig from a can of beer. I didn't recall him taking it from the fridge.
Billie Joe appeared in the door then, struggling with several bags of groceries. "Eh guys? Little help here?!" He panted as a head of lettuce escaped out from one of the bags. I quickly whipped out my phone, and tried to look deep in concentration as if I didn't hear him, while I was merely pushing various buttons. Tré went over and helped Billie with the groceries. Mike was too engrossed in his book by this stage. "12:30 and not one single parking space in the damn car park! Isn't that just f*** unbelievable?! Had to park two blocks away!" Billie Joe complained as he proceeded in to the kitchen with fewer bags in his possession. "Man that is crazy! But which place did you go to? The Wal-Mart up on 7th Avenue?! You know that's the worst of them!" Tré added, picking up the remainder of the shopping bags and following Billie Joe in to the kitchen. "Hey Isabel! Come in here and give us a hand, will you?!" He continued from the other room. I would have given anything not to be within ten feet of Billie Joe at that moment, but I had no choice. I couldn't act as if there was anything wrong! Although it was very difficult to pretend that everything was peaches and cream as well! "I'll be in to help you guys in a minute.... I... " Mike trailed off as he turned a page in the book. I knew his eyes would not leave it until he finished the chapter anyway.
I slowly walked in to the kitchen where Tré and Billie Joe were. They were both at the counter sorting through bags. "I could have sworn I told her to put the beers in here! God dammit, she probably forgot!" Billie Joe said slamming the bag down on the counter. It was clear that he was not in a good mood. Tré abstained from saying anything, and continued to sort through his bag. "Here, could you put these in the utility room please?" He asked me, holding out two bottles of still water. "Sure." I replied, taking them from him. The utility room was off the kitchen, and down a little hall where the guest bathroom was located. I walked down and opened the door. I went in, and immediately felt the cold air circulating around me. I placed the bottles on the nearest shelf, and as I was turning around to go out, Billie Joe appeared in the door way holding a six pack of Budweiser. I got a fright when I saw him. "Oh Billie. You.... You scared me; I didn't hear you come down." I said anxiously. "Oh, I wouldn't want to scare you, now would I?" He grinned sinisterly, raising his eyebrows. He walked in to the room. There clearly wasn't enough space for two people to get by each other easily. He brushed past me but tripped. It was deliberate. He fell in to me, and groped my breasts while he was at it. I shoved his hands away, and looked at him with disgust. "Oh I'm sorry, forgive me! How could I be so clumsy?!" He smirked. "You're not sorry at all; you blatantly fell! I know you did! You deliberately fell in to me so you could get your opportunity!" I hissed at him, not feeling a flicker of fear, but feeling rage and anger. "Really?" He said casually.
He then moved in closer to me. "Prove it!" I opened my mouth to retaliate, but I abstained from saying anything. I couldn't. I was unable to prove shit! I had nothing on him. "Humph! Didn't think so." He sneered. I glared at him. "I hate you!" I whispered loudly through gritted teeth. "What did you say?!" He said sharply. "I said I hate you!" I raised my voice. If there was one thing I regretted the most, it was raising my voice. Without warning he slammed the beers down on the counter. He pushed me up against the wall, and my head smacked off it. I bit my lip trying to stop the pain. He grabbed the neck of my t shirt tightly and clamped his other hand over my mouth. He pushed the utility room door closed with his foot. His eyes were like bright green raging balls of fire, ready to destroy anything in its path. "Do you want the whole f*** house to hear your little tantrum? Well? Do you?!" He hissed. I was still glaring at him, but I was too angry to cry. I tried to release myself from his grip but he held me in place tightly. "Now Isabel, I know you don't really hate me. I think you're just a bit over tired, so you're not fully aware of what you're saying. Hate is such a strong word. Can't we just kiss and make up?" After all, we don't want any bad feelings between us right?" He suddenly smiled, but it wasn't genuine. I just wanted to rip him apart there and then.
I couldn't bare his tantalising tactics much longer. He suddenly removed his hand from my mouth, but leaned in and kissed me. I didn't want to go through this again. I could tell he was enjoying this immensely. He started trying to feel my ass, but I struggled vigorously. His lips parted from mine and he smiled. He released his grip from my t-shirt. "Now why don't you go and get ready. You're coming to the interview with us. Adrienne's bringing all the kids out, and I don't want you out of my sight." He pointed at me. I didn't respond to his remark, but as I opened the door, I said: "You can't keep doing this, you know. I won't be subjected to any more of your blackmail." "Remember what we talked about Isabel. Don't go doing something you'll regret." He winked at me, as he put the beers in the fridge. I just glared at him and left the room. My head was still throbbing. I didn't want to go to this interview; I would have to endure an entire hour listening to Billie Joe bullshit his way through question after question. I walked back in to the kitchen, but Tré was no where to be seen. He was probably getting ready at this stage; they were already five minutes late. Mike however, was still sitting in the lounge reading his book. "Mike! You're not ready! We're leaving in like ten minutes!" I said, trying to pull him out of his trance. "What? Ten minutes?! Oh shit!" He slammed the book shut suddenly, and raced up the stairs. Billie Joe reappeared. "I'm going up to get ready now. I want you to ring them and say that we'll be a bit late. Just make up something about traffic or whatever. I don't f*** care." He ordered, not even looking at me, as he crossed through the lounge and up the stairs.
I sighed, and picked up the phone. "What do you mean they're going to be late?! We have a schedule you know! We don't have time to be waiting around!" I held the phone away from my ear, as the gruff voice on the other end shouted at me. "Screw you asshole, there's nothing I can do about it! Billie Joe's ego expanded so much that it exploded, and they're now they're delayed, picking up the f*** pieces!" I wanted to yell that out so much. Instead, I politely said: "I'm terribly sorry for any inconvenience, Billie Joe requested me to phone you just to let you know they would be a little late. They are leaving now, so they should be arriving shortly." I wish I had gone for the other option. The man was only half listening, so I don't think his reaction would have been any different. "Sorry, what? I didn't catch the end of that. Oh well, it doesn't matter anyway. Just get them down here as quick as you can, we won't wait much longer!" And he slammed the phone down.
I fell down on to the couch. Why were people so bad-mannered these days?! I picked up the book Mike had been reading. It was Hemmingway. Since when did he like Hemmingway? I didn't have much time to wonder, as Tré ambled down the stairs. His tie was now fixed on his shirt, and he had thrown on a pair of black trousers. At least this pair was clean. The last time he wore black trousers to an interview, there was a large ketchup stain smeared down the leg. He looked very smart. His hair wasn't quite in its infamous position, but that would be sorted out when they got to hair and make up down at the studio. "We better be getting a move on Tré, then man organising the interview was pretty pissed to hear that you guys would be late!" I said, looking at the clock anxiously. "Don't worry, we're practically out the door...." Tré reassured me, but then sat down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table not showing any indication that he would be leaving anytime soon. I don't like being late for anything. I get so paranoid about it sometimes, that I worry about other people being late! I began pacing up and down the hall and for the first time in a while, I was actually looking forward to seeing Billie Joe coming down the stairs. Only so that we could get the f*** out of there and down to the studio of course.
I heard someone coming down the stairs then. It was Mike. He avoided the last step, and hurriedly fastened the buttons on the cuffs of his black shirt. He was wearing a black tank top under the open shirt, and I had to admit, he looked damn sexy. He also wore a pair of black trousers. "Damn why is Billie always so f*** casual about these things?! Doesn't he realise that these people have other things to do as well?!" Mike said through gritted teeth as he fastened his watch on his wrist. He then turned his attention to the mirror at the fireplace. His hair was its usual chocolately shade, and he was patting it down on the top to keep it in place. I don't know why, it would be gelled and spiked again when they got to the studio. "Relax dude, it's fine. Isabel talked to the guy down there, he said to take our time, no rush!" I opened my mouth to question Tré bizarre remark, but he caught my eye quick enough, and winked at me. I then realised he was just trying to calm Mike down. I nodded at him, and noticed Mike looking a bit more relaxed. "Really? Well that's okay then... But we should still be leaving soon though. I hate being late!" Mike said. He sat down on the arm chair and drummed his fingers on his knee.
I heard a door closing, and Billie Joe finally appeared at the top of the stairs. He wore a plain blue t-shirt under a black jacket, and black trousers. He had applied his eyeliner already. He never let anyone else do it. His hair was still fluffy looking, and ruffled "Okay, lets hit the road!" He smiled at us all, and opened the front door. I went over to walk out first, but stopped to let him out in front of me. I didn't think he would actually hold the door for me. "Ladies first!" He said to me, waving his hand out in to the open air. I looked at him with a puzzled expression, but he just smiled. This was odd. He was suddenly being nice to me! "Er, thanks!" I said, as I shaked my head slightly, and walked out. I got in to the car, and Tré sat beside me. Mike hopped in to the passenger seat. I was curious as to why Tré didn't act out his usual routine in yelling "I call shot gun!". Then I realised that the Gameboy was on the back seat, and he happily picked it up. Billie Joe got in to the drivers' seat and closed his door. "Let's do this thing, then." He said, as he turned on the ignition. We pulled out of the driveway, and out the iron gates. The studio in Oakland was only about 10 minutes down the road. Billie Joe switched on the radio. "Any preferences?" He said quietly to Mike. "Um.... I... Whatever man. I dunno." Mike usually tried to wow us with his obscure music, but not today. "What about you Isabel? Anything you wanna listen to?" Billie Joe said, as we were stopped in traffic lights. I stopped examining the small group of people staring open mouthed at the car, and looked in to the rear view mirror.
He had a genuine warm glint in his eyes, but it didn't change any new feelings I had developed for him within the past 24 hours. "I got The Ramones, The Clash, The Beatles, Dead Kennedy's... Take your pick. Or do you wanna listen to some of our stuff?" I thought for a moment. As the light went green, the group of people faded away in the distance. "You have Nimrod there?" I asked. Mike opened the CD case and popped in the Nimrod CD. "Could you put on track number 8? I've always liked that one especially. I think it shows some deep, meaningful stuff there... " Mike rolled his index finger along the scroll button, and we were all greeted by the angry guitar introduction of Platypus (I hate you). I kept staring at the rear view mirror. Suddenly Billie Joe's emerald eyes fell upon it, when he realised the significance of the song, and why I blatantly chose it. He glared at me through the mirror. I looked away. "I think I was high when we recorded this one... " Tré said, although still deep in concentration of destroying aliens on the Gameboy. "Tré, man you were high on nearly every song recorded on that album! We all were!" Mike laughed, turning around to him. "Ha, remember when we locked Rob in the studio and told him the place was on fire? He was so doped up though, he just laughed and said; "Take me to Satan then!" Ha... Good times." Mike continued. "Oh yeah, that was f*** hilarious! We even got the lighter and burned some plastic to make the places smell of smoke!" Tré laughed, suddenly forgetting about his game and now reminiscing with Mike on the various antics the three of them got up to whilst on the Nimrod tour in Berlin. Billie Joe only spoke once for the remainder of the journey, and that was to ask Mike to pass him the sunglasses from the glove compartment. He didn't even thank Mike as he handed them to him and he put them on. I wondered if I had stepped out of line.... No, I knew I had. I had just hoped he didn't take it too seriously!
We finally arrived at the studio, and there was a green car parked outside it. The people occupying them got out, and made their way over to the car. Mike quickly got out and dashed over to them. They didn't look too impressed. Two of them were holding cameras, and one was holding a notepad and twiddling a pen through their fingers. "I'm so sorry! We completely lost track of time! Sorry we had to keep you waiting like this!" Mike said apologetically, shaking their hands. "That's okay, the sooner we get the interview done, the sooner we can all get out of here!" The man holding the notepad said impatiently. Tré hopped out of the car, and introduced himself, and immediately began cracking jokes to lighten the atmosphere. I went to unbuckle my seat belt, and I realised it was stuck. It was locked in, and I couldn't open it. Billie Joe was still sitting in the car. "Oh, let me help you with that. Those seatbelts can be a little tricky." He got out of the car, and proceeded over to my side. I then realised that the seatbelts were child proof, as the kids were so hyper and energetic. It was just from a safety point of view in case they managed to open the lock on them. But they could be controlled from the front. He must have locked it in deliberately, and he has the key to unlock it. "Uh oh" I thought.
He opened the door of my side. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?! Never do anything like that again, you bitch!" He growled at me out of earshot from the others. Although his mouth was closed, I could tell he was grinding his teeth. He took off his sunglasses. I could see the evil glint in his eyes, and I tried to unbuckle the seat belt. "It's not going to open, I have the key." He said, at my fruitless attempt. I looked up at him again. He didn't say anything, but he continued frowning at me. He then rummaged in his pocket for a minute. He pulled out the key for the seat belt. "I... I like that song!" I exclaimed. "Oh, don't give me that shit! I'm not as stupid as you might think! Why else would you have picked that one?! I know you picked it for that reason!" He said, as he turned the key in the lock. He held the door open, and stood back to let me out. "Oh yeah? Prove it!" I said, stepping out. I didn't waste another second standing there, and turned around to walk away. I felt his hand on my right shoulder. He turned me around. "Don't...... Tempt me, Isabel!" He whispered menacingly. I looked at his hand on my shoulder, and shook it away from me. I glared at him, and walked away. I heard him slamming the car door, and locking it behind him.
I had been sitting in the corner of the room for almost an hour and a half listening to the interviewer droning on about this, and that! Coming up with the most ridiculous questions. "So tell us Billie, how have you coped with your even bigger rise to stardom since the release of American Idiot?" Billie Joe contemplated for a minute. The same question was directed at Mike and Tré, and they pretty much said the same thing, about just taking one day at a time, that they were only in it for the music, and didn't care about all that Hollywood shit. "I mean, it must be difficult not seeing your family for long periods of time!" The interviewer continued. "Well, my wife and I decided that it would be a good idea to bring the boys on the European tour with us. This is the first time my family have travelled with me, but it was just too long... I think it would have been almost 4 months touring without seeing them. It worked out great as well, and I felt supported 100% because they were there by my side." He smiled, and the interviewer looked impressed. I shook my head and mimed "oh my god." Not only was I suffering in this whole situation with Billie Joe, but his family were suffering too! This just wasn't right. If I wouldn't do it for myself, I certainly had to tell someone for Adrienne and the kids' sake!
I walked out of the room and in to the bathroom. I had to tell someone, I just had to. I was worried that Tré might be flippant about the situation if I told him, so I chose to tell Mike. He also knew Billie Joe longer, so he would take it more seriously. "Hey, sorry if that was so boring! Tell you what... Drinks later on after dinner down at Al's. My treat." Mike suddenly walked in to the bathroom. I barely caught much of what he said. As soon as he looked at me and smiled, I burst in to tears. I hid my face in my hands. "Well, we don't have to go to Al's! I mean, Jack's is a much nicer bar. Yeah we'll go there instead!" He actually thought I was upset about that. "No it's not that! Oh my god! I can't take it anymore! I have to tell you something..... Oh god I can't!" I wailed, wiping my eyes. Mike turned on a very serious expression. "Isabel, what's wrong?!" He said, as he came over and put his arms around me. His hug was so reassuring, but I was still scared. Before I could formulate a sentence through sobs, the bathroom door opened. He appeared in the door way. I jumped out of Mike's arms. "What's going on?" Billie Joe asked suspiciously. I vigorously rubbed my eyes, although didn't share eye contact with him. "Izzy was, just about to tell me something." Mike said, putting his hand on my shoulder. That was not what Billie Joe wanted to hear.
"What's wrong, Isabel?" I looked at him. He stared at me, and my hands began to tremble. "Nothing, it's okay. It doesn't matter. Sorry!" I cried, dashing out of the room. I heard Mike calling my name from behind me, but I didn't turn around...
Mike came in then, with Estelle on his shoulders. "Okay, last stop! The father express has now reached its final destination!" He said in a comical voice, making her giggle. He lifted her off his shoulders, and safely to the ground. He squinted his eyes with pain as he moved his back, but tried to be inconspicuous. "Again! I want to go again, Daddy!" Estelle said avidly jumping up and down. "Oh not now, Daddy's tired. Maybe later." He said, making his way over to the nearest arm chair. "Why don't you go up and help the boys wash their hands, eh?" She nodded, and ran up the stairs. "God, what a great kid! Such energy, for an eight year old!" Mike smiled to himself as he reached over to pick up a book sitting on the coffee table. I loved the way Mike cared for his daughter. She was his world, and his eyes always seemed to light up when he was just in her company. He made her so happy as well. "Pppfff..... You aint seen nothing till you've seen my Ramona! Now there's a kid with copious amounts of energy! Think me..... By two!" Tré laughed as he took a swig from a can of beer. I didn't recall him taking it from the fridge.
Billie Joe appeared in the door then, struggling with several bags of groceries. "Eh guys? Little help here?!" He panted as a head of lettuce escaped out from one of the bags. I quickly whipped out my phone, and tried to look deep in concentration as if I didn't hear him, while I was merely pushing various buttons. Tré went over and helped Billie with the groceries. Mike was too engrossed in his book by this stage. "12:30 and not one single parking space in the damn car park! Isn't that just f*** unbelievable?! Had to park two blocks away!" Billie Joe complained as he proceeded in to the kitchen with fewer bags in his possession. "Man that is crazy! But which place did you go to? The Wal-Mart up on 7th Avenue?! You know that's the worst of them!" Tré added, picking up the remainder of the shopping bags and following Billie Joe in to the kitchen. "Hey Isabel! Come in here and give us a hand, will you?!" He continued from the other room. I would have given anything not to be within ten feet of Billie Joe at that moment, but I had no choice. I couldn't act as if there was anything wrong! Although it was very difficult to pretend that everything was peaches and cream as well! "I'll be in to help you guys in a minute.... I... " Mike trailed off as he turned a page in the book. I knew his eyes would not leave it until he finished the chapter anyway.
I slowly walked in to the kitchen where Tré and Billie Joe were. They were both at the counter sorting through bags. "I could have sworn I told her to put the beers in here! God dammit, she probably forgot!" Billie Joe said slamming the bag down on the counter. It was clear that he was not in a good mood. Tré abstained from saying anything, and continued to sort through his bag. "Here, could you put these in the utility room please?" He asked me, holding out two bottles of still water. "Sure." I replied, taking them from him. The utility room was off the kitchen, and down a little hall where the guest bathroom was located. I walked down and opened the door. I went in, and immediately felt the cold air circulating around me. I placed the bottles on the nearest shelf, and as I was turning around to go out, Billie Joe appeared in the door way holding a six pack of Budweiser. I got a fright when I saw him. "Oh Billie. You.... You scared me; I didn't hear you come down." I said anxiously. "Oh, I wouldn't want to scare you, now would I?" He grinned sinisterly, raising his eyebrows. He walked in to the room. There clearly wasn't enough space for two people to get by each other easily. He brushed past me but tripped. It was deliberate. He fell in to me, and groped my breasts while he was at it. I shoved his hands away, and looked at him with disgust. "Oh I'm sorry, forgive me! How could I be so clumsy?!" He smirked. "You're not sorry at all; you blatantly fell! I know you did! You deliberately fell in to me so you could get your opportunity!" I hissed at him, not feeling a flicker of fear, but feeling rage and anger. "Really?" He said casually.
He then moved in closer to me. "Prove it!" I opened my mouth to retaliate, but I abstained from saying anything. I couldn't. I was unable to prove shit! I had nothing on him. "Humph! Didn't think so." He sneered. I glared at him. "I hate you!" I whispered loudly through gritted teeth. "What did you say?!" He said sharply. "I said I hate you!" I raised my voice. If there was one thing I regretted the most, it was raising my voice. Without warning he slammed the beers down on the counter. He pushed me up against the wall, and my head smacked off it. I bit my lip trying to stop the pain. He grabbed the neck of my t shirt tightly and clamped his other hand over my mouth. He pushed the utility room door closed with his foot. His eyes were like bright green raging balls of fire, ready to destroy anything in its path. "Do you want the whole f*** house to hear your little tantrum? Well? Do you?!" He hissed. I was still glaring at him, but I was too angry to cry. I tried to release myself from his grip but he held me in place tightly. "Now Isabel, I know you don't really hate me. I think you're just a bit over tired, so you're not fully aware of what you're saying. Hate is such a strong word. Can't we just kiss and make up?" After all, we don't want any bad feelings between us right?" He suddenly smiled, but it wasn't genuine. I just wanted to rip him apart there and then.
I couldn't bare his tantalising tactics much longer. He suddenly removed his hand from my mouth, but leaned in and kissed me. I didn't want to go through this again. I could tell he was enjoying this immensely. He started trying to feel my ass, but I struggled vigorously. His lips parted from mine and he smiled. He released his grip from my t-shirt. "Now why don't you go and get ready. You're coming to the interview with us. Adrienne's bringing all the kids out, and I don't want you out of my sight." He pointed at me. I didn't respond to his remark, but as I opened the door, I said: "You can't keep doing this, you know. I won't be subjected to any more of your blackmail." "Remember what we talked about Isabel. Don't go doing something you'll regret." He winked at me, as he put the beers in the fridge. I just glared at him and left the room. My head was still throbbing. I didn't want to go to this interview; I would have to endure an entire hour listening to Billie Joe bullshit his way through question after question. I walked back in to the kitchen, but Tré was no where to be seen. He was probably getting ready at this stage; they were already five minutes late. Mike however, was still sitting in the lounge reading his book. "Mike! You're not ready! We're leaving in like ten minutes!" I said, trying to pull him out of his trance. "What? Ten minutes?! Oh shit!" He slammed the book shut suddenly, and raced up the stairs. Billie Joe reappeared. "I'm going up to get ready now. I want you to ring them and say that we'll be a bit late. Just make up something about traffic or whatever. I don't f*** care." He ordered, not even looking at me, as he crossed through the lounge and up the stairs.
I sighed, and picked up the phone. "What do you mean they're going to be late?! We have a schedule you know! We don't have time to be waiting around!" I held the phone away from my ear, as the gruff voice on the other end shouted at me. "Screw you asshole, there's nothing I can do about it! Billie Joe's ego expanded so much that it exploded, and they're now they're delayed, picking up the f*** pieces!" I wanted to yell that out so much. Instead, I politely said: "I'm terribly sorry for any inconvenience, Billie Joe requested me to phone you just to let you know they would be a little late. They are leaving now, so they should be arriving shortly." I wish I had gone for the other option. The man was only half listening, so I don't think his reaction would have been any different. "Sorry, what? I didn't catch the end of that. Oh well, it doesn't matter anyway. Just get them down here as quick as you can, we won't wait much longer!" And he slammed the phone down.
I fell down on to the couch. Why were people so bad-mannered these days?! I picked up the book Mike had been reading. It was Hemmingway. Since when did he like Hemmingway? I didn't have much time to wonder, as Tré ambled down the stairs. His tie was now fixed on his shirt, and he had thrown on a pair of black trousers. At least this pair was clean. The last time he wore black trousers to an interview, there was a large ketchup stain smeared down the leg. He looked very smart. His hair wasn't quite in its infamous position, but that would be sorted out when they got to hair and make up down at the studio. "We better be getting a move on Tré, then man organising the interview was pretty pissed to hear that you guys would be late!" I said, looking at the clock anxiously. "Don't worry, we're practically out the door...." Tré reassured me, but then sat down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table not showing any indication that he would be leaving anytime soon. I don't like being late for anything. I get so paranoid about it sometimes, that I worry about other people being late! I began pacing up and down the hall and for the first time in a while, I was actually looking forward to seeing Billie Joe coming down the stairs. Only so that we could get the f*** out of there and down to the studio of course.
I heard someone coming down the stairs then. It was Mike. He avoided the last step, and hurriedly fastened the buttons on the cuffs of his black shirt. He was wearing a black tank top under the open shirt, and I had to admit, he looked damn sexy. He also wore a pair of black trousers. "Damn why is Billie always so f*** casual about these things?! Doesn't he realise that these people have other things to do as well?!" Mike said through gritted teeth as he fastened his watch on his wrist. He then turned his attention to the mirror at the fireplace. His hair was its usual chocolately shade, and he was patting it down on the top to keep it in place. I don't know why, it would be gelled and spiked again when they got to the studio. "Relax dude, it's fine. Isabel talked to the guy down there, he said to take our time, no rush!" I opened my mouth to question Tré bizarre remark, but he caught my eye quick enough, and winked at me. I then realised he was just trying to calm Mike down. I nodded at him, and noticed Mike looking a bit more relaxed. "Really? Well that's okay then... But we should still be leaving soon though. I hate being late!" Mike said. He sat down on the arm chair and drummed his fingers on his knee.
I heard a door closing, and Billie Joe finally appeared at the top of the stairs. He wore a plain blue t-shirt under a black jacket, and black trousers. He had applied his eyeliner already. He never let anyone else do it. His hair was still fluffy looking, and ruffled "Okay, lets hit the road!" He smiled at us all, and opened the front door. I went over to walk out first, but stopped to let him out in front of me. I didn't think he would actually hold the door for me. "Ladies first!" He said to me, waving his hand out in to the open air. I looked at him with a puzzled expression, but he just smiled. This was odd. He was suddenly being nice to me! "Er, thanks!" I said, as I shaked my head slightly, and walked out. I got in to the car, and Tré sat beside me. Mike hopped in to the passenger seat. I was curious as to why Tré didn't act out his usual routine in yelling "I call shot gun!". Then I realised that the Gameboy was on the back seat, and he happily picked it up. Billie Joe got in to the drivers' seat and closed his door. "Let's do this thing, then." He said, as he turned on the ignition. We pulled out of the driveway, and out the iron gates. The studio in Oakland was only about 10 minutes down the road. Billie Joe switched on the radio. "Any preferences?" He said quietly to Mike. "Um.... I... Whatever man. I dunno." Mike usually tried to wow us with his obscure music, but not today. "What about you Isabel? Anything you wanna listen to?" Billie Joe said, as we were stopped in traffic lights. I stopped examining the small group of people staring open mouthed at the car, and looked in to the rear view mirror.
He had a genuine warm glint in his eyes, but it didn't change any new feelings I had developed for him within the past 24 hours. "I got The Ramones, The Clash, The Beatles, Dead Kennedy's... Take your pick. Or do you wanna listen to some of our stuff?" I thought for a moment. As the light went green, the group of people faded away in the distance. "You have Nimrod there?" I asked. Mike opened the CD case and popped in the Nimrod CD. "Could you put on track number 8? I've always liked that one especially. I think it shows some deep, meaningful stuff there... " Mike rolled his index finger along the scroll button, and we were all greeted by the angry guitar introduction of Platypus (I hate you). I kept staring at the rear view mirror. Suddenly Billie Joe's emerald eyes fell upon it, when he realised the significance of the song, and why I blatantly chose it. He glared at me through the mirror. I looked away. "I think I was high when we recorded this one... " Tré said, although still deep in concentration of destroying aliens on the Gameboy. "Tré, man you were high on nearly every song recorded on that album! We all were!" Mike laughed, turning around to him. "Ha, remember when we locked Rob in the studio and told him the place was on fire? He was so doped up though, he just laughed and said; "Take me to Satan then!" Ha... Good times." Mike continued. "Oh yeah, that was f*** hilarious! We even got the lighter and burned some plastic to make the places smell of smoke!" Tré laughed, suddenly forgetting about his game and now reminiscing with Mike on the various antics the three of them got up to whilst on the Nimrod tour in Berlin. Billie Joe only spoke once for the remainder of the journey, and that was to ask Mike to pass him the sunglasses from the glove compartment. He didn't even thank Mike as he handed them to him and he put them on. I wondered if I had stepped out of line.... No, I knew I had. I had just hoped he didn't take it too seriously!
We finally arrived at the studio, and there was a green car parked outside it. The people occupying them got out, and made their way over to the car. Mike quickly got out and dashed over to them. They didn't look too impressed. Two of them were holding cameras, and one was holding a notepad and twiddling a pen through their fingers. "I'm so sorry! We completely lost track of time! Sorry we had to keep you waiting like this!" Mike said apologetically, shaking their hands. "That's okay, the sooner we get the interview done, the sooner we can all get out of here!" The man holding the notepad said impatiently. Tré hopped out of the car, and introduced himself, and immediately began cracking jokes to lighten the atmosphere. I went to unbuckle my seat belt, and I realised it was stuck. It was locked in, and I couldn't open it. Billie Joe was still sitting in the car. "Oh, let me help you with that. Those seatbelts can be a little tricky." He got out of the car, and proceeded over to my side. I then realised that the seatbelts were child proof, as the kids were so hyper and energetic. It was just from a safety point of view in case they managed to open the lock on them. But they could be controlled from the front. He must have locked it in deliberately, and he has the key to unlock it. "Uh oh" I thought.
He opened the door of my side. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?! Never do anything like that again, you bitch!" He growled at me out of earshot from the others. Although his mouth was closed, I could tell he was grinding his teeth. He took off his sunglasses. I could see the evil glint in his eyes, and I tried to unbuckle the seat belt. "It's not going to open, I have the key." He said, at my fruitless attempt. I looked up at him again. He didn't say anything, but he continued frowning at me. He then rummaged in his pocket for a minute. He pulled out the key for the seat belt. "I... I like that song!" I exclaimed. "Oh, don't give me that shit! I'm not as stupid as you might think! Why else would you have picked that one?! I know you picked it for that reason!" He said, as he turned the key in the lock. He held the door open, and stood back to let me out. "Oh yeah? Prove it!" I said, stepping out. I didn't waste another second standing there, and turned around to walk away. I felt his hand on my right shoulder. He turned me around. "Don't...... Tempt me, Isabel!" He whispered menacingly. I looked at his hand on my shoulder, and shook it away from me. I glared at him, and walked away. I heard him slamming the car door, and locking it behind him.
I had been sitting in the corner of the room for almost an hour and a half listening to the interviewer droning on about this, and that! Coming up with the most ridiculous questions. "So tell us Billie, how have you coped with your even bigger rise to stardom since the release of American Idiot?" Billie Joe contemplated for a minute. The same question was directed at Mike and Tré, and they pretty much said the same thing, about just taking one day at a time, that they were only in it for the music, and didn't care about all that Hollywood shit. "I mean, it must be difficult not seeing your family for long periods of time!" The interviewer continued. "Well, my wife and I decided that it would be a good idea to bring the boys on the European tour with us. This is the first time my family have travelled with me, but it was just too long... I think it would have been almost 4 months touring without seeing them. It worked out great as well, and I felt supported 100% because they were there by my side." He smiled, and the interviewer looked impressed. I shook my head and mimed "oh my god." Not only was I suffering in this whole situation with Billie Joe, but his family were suffering too! This just wasn't right. If I wouldn't do it for myself, I certainly had to tell someone for Adrienne and the kids' sake!
I walked out of the room and in to the bathroom. I had to tell someone, I just had to. I was worried that Tré might be flippant about the situation if I told him, so I chose to tell Mike. He also knew Billie Joe longer, so he would take it more seriously. "Hey, sorry if that was so boring! Tell you what... Drinks later on after dinner down at Al's. My treat." Mike suddenly walked in to the bathroom. I barely caught much of what he said. As soon as he looked at me and smiled, I burst in to tears. I hid my face in my hands. "Well, we don't have to go to Al's! I mean, Jack's is a much nicer bar. Yeah we'll go there instead!" He actually thought I was upset about that. "No it's not that! Oh my god! I can't take it anymore! I have to tell you something..... Oh god I can't!" I wailed, wiping my eyes. Mike turned on a very serious expression. "Isabel, what's wrong?!" He said, as he came over and put his arms around me. His hug was so reassuring, but I was still scared. Before I could formulate a sentence through sobs, the bathroom door opened. He appeared in the door way. I jumped out of Mike's arms. "What's going on?" Billie Joe asked suspiciously. I vigorously rubbed my eyes, although didn't share eye contact with him. "Izzy was, just about to tell me something." Mike said, putting his hand on my shoulder. That was not what Billie Joe wanted to hear.
"What's wrong, Isabel?" I looked at him. He stared at me, and my hands began to tremble. "Nothing, it's okay. It doesn't matter. Sorry!" I cried, dashing out of the room. I heard Mike calling my name from behind me, but I didn't turn around...
