Untitled (for now)., chapter 1
"Hey, Bill, it's Mike. I'm calling from Tre's place, and--" Billie Joe opened the door to hear the familiar voice recording a message on his home answering machine. Setting down the six pack of beer and bag of cheese puffs, he ran to the phone, and picked it up.
"Hey Mike. Sorry. I just got home."
"Thank God. Could you come over here? To Tre's? I really need your help. Tre's girlfriend--you know the one, dark hair, super short? Yeah, well I guess she walked out on him yesterday. He's taking it fuckin' hard, Bill." Billie felt a pang of sympathy for his friend; he knew how much Tre loved his girlfriend, knew he'd be taking the blow very hard.
"God. Alright. I'll be right over."
"Thanks, Billie." Billie Joe clicked the receiver down, and put the beer in the fridge. The cheese puffs went with him.
"Good, you're here." Mike swung the door shut behind his band mate, who had shrugged off his jacket, and was heading into the living room. Tre was sitting dejectedly on the couch, with Frankito snuggled close beside him, clutching his father's arm. Billie murmured a greeting, and bent down to give Tre a one-armed hug, which was half-heartedly returned.
"Hi, Uncle Bill," Frankito grinned, revealing a smile with a missing front tooth. Billie couldn't help but smile back at the innocent five-year-old. Frankito hopped off the couch, and captured Billie's leg in a vice grip.
"Ugh. I need a drink," Tre sighed. He rubbed bloodshot eyes.
"I checked already," Mike said, "there's none in the fridge."
"How about you guys go out for a beer? I can watch this munchkin." Billie tousled Frankito's hair affectionately. "Mikey, you go with Tre. Only a couple beers, though. One, two at the most. And be back real soon; it's New Years Eve, y'know, and we're all counting down together. Frankito, you're gonna hang out with Uncle Bill for a while, alright?" Frankito smiled up at him, as Tre and Mike were getting their jackets on to leave.
"See ya, Bill," Mike said. "We'll be back in a little bit," he called as the door latched closed.
3 hours later.
The doorknob rattled and turned. Billie's and Frankito's heads shot up in unison, their attention diverted from the game of chutes and ladders they were playing. The door opened, smacking the wall behind it. Tre walked in. He was by himself, and something wasn't quite right. Obviously hammered beyond normal, Tre looked at his band mate, eyelids drooping low over his vibrant blue eyes. His knees buckled a little, and one hand shot out to grasp the wall for support. Frankito regarded his father with a confused expression on his face. His smile melted away as fast as it had appeared on the young face.
"Your turn, Frankito. I'll be right back," Billie whispered hurriedly, tossing Tre's son the dice for the board game. He got up, took hold of Tre's broad shoulders, and guided him into the bedroom.
"Tre! What the hell were you thinking? Your son is in there, for fuck's sake! And where's Mike? I would've had some drinks, too, but not until after Frankie was asleep!" He took a breath, to continue spurting out accusations, but the loud, polyphonic ring of his cell phone cut him off first.
"Hello?"
"Bill. Bad news, man. I have no idea where Tre is. I went to the bathroom at the bar, right? And when I got back, he was gone. And he took my car. I looked all over! I checked at the bar down on Church stre--"
"Mikey, he's here. He came in about five minutes ago. Totally shit-faced. He's seriously messed up, Mikey. He can't even keep his goddamn eyes open. Hasn't said a frickin' thing, either. Just stood there."
"Oh my God. When he sobers up, I'm gonna kick his ass. Crap. I'll call a cab, then. Hell, I'll just run; it'll be faster. Bye." Mike hung up. Billie took a deep breath, and dug his fingers hard into his temples, rubbing small circles. Tre was flopped on the bed, like a limp rag doll. His eyes were barely open. Frankito's voice sounded from outside the door.
"Uncle Bill? I don't want to play this game anymore. Can I watch a video?"
"Sure, Frankie. I'll, uh, I'll be right there. Just gimme a sec. Pick out the video you want to watch, ok?" His quiet footsteps padded away from the door, and faded out of earshot.
"God, I hope Mike gets here soon," Billie murmured.
"Hey Mike. Sorry. I just got home."
"Thank God. Could you come over here? To Tre's? I really need your help. Tre's girlfriend--you know the one, dark hair, super short? Yeah, well I guess she walked out on him yesterday. He's taking it fuckin' hard, Bill." Billie felt a pang of sympathy for his friend; he knew how much Tre loved his girlfriend, knew he'd be taking the blow very hard.
"God. Alright. I'll be right over."
"Thanks, Billie." Billie Joe clicked the receiver down, and put the beer in the fridge. The cheese puffs went with him.
"Good, you're here." Mike swung the door shut behind his band mate, who had shrugged off his jacket, and was heading into the living room. Tre was sitting dejectedly on the couch, with Frankito snuggled close beside him, clutching his father's arm. Billie murmured a greeting, and bent down to give Tre a one-armed hug, which was half-heartedly returned.
"Hi, Uncle Bill," Frankito grinned, revealing a smile with a missing front tooth. Billie couldn't help but smile back at the innocent five-year-old. Frankito hopped off the couch, and captured Billie's leg in a vice grip.
"Ugh. I need a drink," Tre sighed. He rubbed bloodshot eyes.
"I checked already," Mike said, "there's none in the fridge."
"How about you guys go out for a beer? I can watch this munchkin." Billie tousled Frankito's hair affectionately. "Mikey, you go with Tre. Only a couple beers, though. One, two at the most. And be back real soon; it's New Years Eve, y'know, and we're all counting down together. Frankito, you're gonna hang out with Uncle Bill for a while, alright?" Frankito smiled up at him, as Tre and Mike were getting their jackets on to leave.
"See ya, Bill," Mike said. "We'll be back in a little bit," he called as the door latched closed.
3 hours later.
The doorknob rattled and turned. Billie's and Frankito's heads shot up in unison, their attention diverted from the game of chutes and ladders they were playing. The door opened, smacking the wall behind it. Tre walked in. He was by himself, and something wasn't quite right. Obviously hammered beyond normal, Tre looked at his band mate, eyelids drooping low over his vibrant blue eyes. His knees buckled a little, and one hand shot out to grasp the wall for support. Frankito regarded his father with a confused expression on his face. His smile melted away as fast as it had appeared on the young face.
"Your turn, Frankito. I'll be right back," Billie whispered hurriedly, tossing Tre's son the dice for the board game. He got up, took hold of Tre's broad shoulders, and guided him into the bedroom.
"Tre! What the hell were you thinking? Your son is in there, for fuck's sake! And where's Mike? I would've had some drinks, too, but not until after Frankie was asleep!" He took a breath, to continue spurting out accusations, but the loud, polyphonic ring of his cell phone cut him off first.
"Hello?"
"Bill. Bad news, man. I have no idea where Tre is. I went to the bathroom at the bar, right? And when I got back, he was gone. And he took my car. I looked all over! I checked at the bar down on Church stre--"
"Mikey, he's here. He came in about five minutes ago. Totally shit-faced. He's seriously messed up, Mikey. He can't even keep his goddamn eyes open. Hasn't said a frickin' thing, either. Just stood there."
"Oh my God. When he sobers up, I'm gonna kick his ass. Crap. I'll call a cab, then. Hell, I'll just run; it'll be faster. Bye." Mike hung up. Billie took a deep breath, and dug his fingers hard into his temples, rubbing small circles. Tre was flopped on the bed, like a limp rag doll. His eyes were barely open. Frankito's voice sounded from outside the door.
"Uncle Bill? I don't want to play this game anymore. Can I watch a video?"
"Sure, Frankie. I'll, uh, I'll be right there. Just gimme a sec. Pick out the video you want to watch, ok?" His quiet footsteps padded away from the door, and faded out of earshot.
"God, I hope Mike gets here soon," Billie murmured.
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