2028, chapter 2
Billie Joe Armstrong looked out of the window of his house. This was a fairly new house, with a kick ass view of the city and trees outside, creating a secluded, relaxed air. He watched as a bird took flight off a roof down the hill, and a little girl played in her mother's shadow, as the mother gardened.
"Oh Billie," his wife, Adrienne called, "I just got a call from Jake."
"Uh-huh?" Billie Joe waited patiently for news of his younger son. He had a good relationship with him, unlike his relationship with Joey, his older son. In essence, Jakob had become his Favorite Son.
"You'll never guess who's back in town!" Adrienne smiled, hoping her husband would finally get over his ego.
"Dakota Fanning," he said dryly, naming the famous actress, one of the It Girls of the day.
"Joey's back honey," Adrienne looked for any signs of her husband's feelings.
"Asshole," Billie Joe muttered quietly.
"Get over it, I am going to see him!" Adrienne announced, "And so are you."
"No I'm not," he retorted.
"Yes, you are. He is your son, and deep down you still love him!"
"I'm not going," Billie said, as he could be quite stubborn at times.
"Fine... I highly doubt he wants to see you anyways."
That got to Billie Joe. I mean, come on, he was Billie Joe Armstrong! His band, even though they were gone, was legend, at least in the league of the Ramones. They had been responsible for the explosion of pop-punk! When a rock band these days would get asked their influences, Green Day was always somewhere in there! How could someone not want to see him?
But since Billie didn't want to see him either, he decided to let it slide for once, and be normal. Being a rock legend was hard work these days, especially when you had to avoid your ex-band mates at every damn function and awards show. He winced the other day, when he turned on the TV and saw Tre Cool, his old drummer, with his little model wife Alice or Danielle or something like that, presenting an award on TV. The other day, on VH1 they were counting down the greatest concert moments, and hadn't he seen himself, aged twenty-one or so, blue-haired and throwing mud at people? It was hard to believe, for this bitter man, sitting in his house; that times that happy could have happened. Or even a picture, an old black and white photo that had somehow gotten out of the closet, of him at Gilman, singing his nineteen-year-old heart out. No, he supposed, those times had happened, but it was definitely something not bound to happen again. Maybe, maybe he could talk with Jason White or someone like that, but never Mike or Tre. No, never again would he see Mike fall over himself as he walked down some stairs while Tre looked on, a sexual, happy look in his blue eyes. He probably would never see a girl, walking down the street, in an American Idiot t-shirt, black pants, eyeliner and Converse or Vans, trading Green Day facts or gossip with a similar friend next to her, and have that satisfaction, that warm feeling inside, that he had influenced them, he was being noticed.
He sighed, and turned on his huge TV.
**
Tre Cool had just finished having sex. And ooh, was it good sex! His wife, Jessie, was one of those girls... Well he didn't need to describe his sex, but she was perfect.
"You want meat?" she asked, from where she was programming in what the two would have for dinner, "Oh and is Frankito coming or not, I need to know."
"Yeah, he'll be here in... " Tre glanced at the schedule for the Pods, the little subway-like transportation things that everyone used now, "Thirty seconds."
"Oh joy, the house is a wreck."
"Frankie's used to living in a pigsty. His apartment hasn't been cleaned since Ramona moved to Mars."
"Tre," Jessie said, "Ramona didn't move to Mars. That's only astronauts."
"I get that. It's my point," Tre retorted stubbornly.
Jessie rolled her eyes as the door flung open and a man, in his late twenties, opened the door. He looked like his father, with brown hair and blue eyes, but was a few inches taller, taking after his mother in that sense. His coat came straight off, revealing a half-punk outfit under it. It was still in the styles of the day, but with a bit of a rocker feel. A tattoo on his arm, was just like his father's, a TV smashing through a window, the only one his father would let him get illegally, when he was sixteen.
"Hey Frankito," Jessie smiled, "How are you?"
"I'm okay."
"How was school?" she asked, referring to the PhD he was in the process of getting, in the subject of physics, from the University of California at Berkeley (or Cal).
"It was okay. We had an interesting lecture on the laws of physics... " he responded, raising an eyebrow, "I saw Jakob."
"Jakob... Billie's Jakob?" Tre asked, forgetting the smartass comment he had been about to make, "Jakob Armstrong?"
"Well yeah, do we know any other Jakob's?"
"No... Not that I know of. How is he?"
"He's great. I was walking down University, and he was coming out of a deli. We talked for a bit, he's been doing management and shit."
"Oh for who?"
"You know that girl band... Killing Cabbages."
"Oh, yeah the bass player's hot!" Tre said, earning him a slap on the head from his wife, "No honey, you're hotter."
"Thought so," she smiled, "So he's doing good?"
"Yeah... He's married, his wife's pregnant with a baby girl."
"Oh, Little Jakob, all grown up and about to be a Daddy!" Tre reminisced, about times long gone. When was the last time he had seen one of the Armstrong boys play a guitar? Or a member of the Pritchard/Dirnt clan fall down in front of a million people? Or even when was the last time he had pissed on his drum stool, in front of umpteen thousand people? Ah, the good old days...
His thoughts were interrupted by the fact that Jessie had fount a case of beer in the fridge.
**
A few hundred miles away, in his Los Angeles, Mike Dirnt wondered if what he was doing was right. His daughter Stella was over, and she was telling him about the twin boys she was going to adopt. Their names were Jesse and Jason, and they were thirteen.
"Stella, you're only thirty one though. Enjoy the good, free days while you have them!" Mike pointed out.
"No but, I'm in love with them, they're so awesome!" Stella protested, "Jesse's the good boy, and Jason uses everyone and everything for evil. I mean, not bad evil... "
"Yeah, the good kind of evil," Mike laughed, "Whatever. You're a big girl, you can do things yourself, I'm not gonna stop you. Just be careful."
"No don't worry, Aaron and I talked about it. We've got room, we've got support... Everything's good."
"Alright, whatever."
"Oh and guess what?"
"What Stella?" Mike asked, avoiding her childhood nickname of 'Hero' since he knew she was interested in trying to find her own identity, by herself.
"I talked with Ramona a few days ago."
"Wright? Or Cool?"
"Actually, she's Ramona Meyers now. She's married to some rocker dude."
"We still have those? Rockers? I thought I was the only one left!" Mike smiled.
"No ass, there are three of you... Two just live in Nor Cal."
Mike became quiet. Did she really have to bring them up? The two hated ones? Yeah, she did. He felt anger towards them, but instead of letting his emotion overtake him, he hesitated. There was something else there as well, longing, friendship, and well, in an odd sort of way, love. He had always loved it when Tre would bring the most absurd props to an interview, whips, soda cans, extra shoes. And he adored Billie Joe's tendency to lose his eyeliner or hair gel and live off others', usually his wife's. But then again, those had been the good old days, and people changed. They had both become more conceited than he had ever imagined possible, and both were some of the biggest assholes now.
Confused, he stood up, leaving Stella behind to work out her father's complicated life.
"Oh Billie," his wife, Adrienne called, "I just got a call from Jake."
"Uh-huh?" Billie Joe waited patiently for news of his younger son. He had a good relationship with him, unlike his relationship with Joey, his older son. In essence, Jakob had become his Favorite Son.
"You'll never guess who's back in town!" Adrienne smiled, hoping her husband would finally get over his ego.
"Dakota Fanning," he said dryly, naming the famous actress, one of the It Girls of the day.
"Joey's back honey," Adrienne looked for any signs of her husband's feelings.
"Asshole," Billie Joe muttered quietly.
"Get over it, I am going to see him!" Adrienne announced, "And so are you."
"No I'm not," he retorted.
"Yes, you are. He is your son, and deep down you still love him!"
"I'm not going," Billie said, as he could be quite stubborn at times.
"Fine... I highly doubt he wants to see you anyways."
That got to Billie Joe. I mean, come on, he was Billie Joe Armstrong! His band, even though they were gone, was legend, at least in the league of the Ramones. They had been responsible for the explosion of pop-punk! When a rock band these days would get asked their influences, Green Day was always somewhere in there! How could someone not want to see him?
But since Billie didn't want to see him either, he decided to let it slide for once, and be normal. Being a rock legend was hard work these days, especially when you had to avoid your ex-band mates at every damn function and awards show. He winced the other day, when he turned on the TV and saw Tre Cool, his old drummer, with his little model wife Alice or Danielle or something like that, presenting an award on TV. The other day, on VH1 they were counting down the greatest concert moments, and hadn't he seen himself, aged twenty-one or so, blue-haired and throwing mud at people? It was hard to believe, for this bitter man, sitting in his house; that times that happy could have happened. Or even a picture, an old black and white photo that had somehow gotten out of the closet, of him at Gilman, singing his nineteen-year-old heart out. No, he supposed, those times had happened, but it was definitely something not bound to happen again. Maybe, maybe he could talk with Jason White or someone like that, but never Mike or Tre. No, never again would he see Mike fall over himself as he walked down some stairs while Tre looked on, a sexual, happy look in his blue eyes. He probably would never see a girl, walking down the street, in an American Idiot t-shirt, black pants, eyeliner and Converse or Vans, trading Green Day facts or gossip with a similar friend next to her, and have that satisfaction, that warm feeling inside, that he had influenced them, he was being noticed.
He sighed, and turned on his huge TV.
**
Tre Cool had just finished having sex. And ooh, was it good sex! His wife, Jessie, was one of those girls... Well he didn't need to describe his sex, but she was perfect.
"You want meat?" she asked, from where she was programming in what the two would have for dinner, "Oh and is Frankito coming or not, I need to know."
"Yeah, he'll be here in... " Tre glanced at the schedule for the Pods, the little subway-like transportation things that everyone used now, "Thirty seconds."
"Oh joy, the house is a wreck."
"Frankie's used to living in a pigsty. His apartment hasn't been cleaned since Ramona moved to Mars."
"Tre," Jessie said, "Ramona didn't move to Mars. That's only astronauts."
"I get that. It's my point," Tre retorted stubbornly.
Jessie rolled her eyes as the door flung open and a man, in his late twenties, opened the door. He looked like his father, with brown hair and blue eyes, but was a few inches taller, taking after his mother in that sense. His coat came straight off, revealing a half-punk outfit under it. It was still in the styles of the day, but with a bit of a rocker feel. A tattoo on his arm, was just like his father's, a TV smashing through a window, the only one his father would let him get illegally, when he was sixteen.
"Hey Frankito," Jessie smiled, "How are you?"
"I'm okay."
"How was school?" she asked, referring to the PhD he was in the process of getting, in the subject of physics, from the University of California at Berkeley (or Cal).
"It was okay. We had an interesting lecture on the laws of physics... " he responded, raising an eyebrow, "I saw Jakob."
"Jakob... Billie's Jakob?" Tre asked, forgetting the smartass comment he had been about to make, "Jakob Armstrong?"
"Well yeah, do we know any other Jakob's?"
"No... Not that I know of. How is he?"
"He's great. I was walking down University, and he was coming out of a deli. We talked for a bit, he's been doing management and shit."
"Oh for who?"
"You know that girl band... Killing Cabbages."
"Oh, yeah the bass player's hot!" Tre said, earning him a slap on the head from his wife, "No honey, you're hotter."
"Thought so," she smiled, "So he's doing good?"
"Yeah... He's married, his wife's pregnant with a baby girl."
"Oh, Little Jakob, all grown up and about to be a Daddy!" Tre reminisced, about times long gone. When was the last time he had seen one of the Armstrong boys play a guitar? Or a member of the Pritchard/Dirnt clan fall down in front of a million people? Or even when was the last time he had pissed on his drum stool, in front of umpteen thousand people? Ah, the good old days...
His thoughts were interrupted by the fact that Jessie had fount a case of beer in the fridge.
**
A few hundred miles away, in his Los Angeles, Mike Dirnt wondered if what he was doing was right. His daughter Stella was over, and she was telling him about the twin boys she was going to adopt. Their names were Jesse and Jason, and they were thirteen.
"Stella, you're only thirty one though. Enjoy the good, free days while you have them!" Mike pointed out.
"No but, I'm in love with them, they're so awesome!" Stella protested, "Jesse's the good boy, and Jason uses everyone and everything for evil. I mean, not bad evil... "
"Yeah, the good kind of evil," Mike laughed, "Whatever. You're a big girl, you can do things yourself, I'm not gonna stop you. Just be careful."
"No don't worry, Aaron and I talked about it. We've got room, we've got support... Everything's good."
"Alright, whatever."
"Oh and guess what?"
"What Stella?" Mike asked, avoiding her childhood nickname of 'Hero' since he knew she was interested in trying to find her own identity, by herself.
"I talked with Ramona a few days ago."
"Wright? Or Cool?"
"Actually, she's Ramona Meyers now. She's married to some rocker dude."
"We still have those? Rockers? I thought I was the only one left!" Mike smiled.
"No ass, there are three of you... Two just live in Nor Cal."
Mike became quiet. Did she really have to bring them up? The two hated ones? Yeah, she did. He felt anger towards them, but instead of letting his emotion overtake him, he hesitated. There was something else there as well, longing, friendship, and well, in an odd sort of way, love. He had always loved it when Tre would bring the most absurd props to an interview, whips, soda cans, extra shoes. And he adored Billie Joe's tendency to lose his eyeliner or hair gel and live off others', usually his wife's. But then again, those had been the good old days, and people changed. They had both become more conceited than he had ever imagined possible, and both were some of the biggest assholes now.
Confused, he stood up, leaving Stella behind to work out her father's complicated life.
