Should I Stay Or Should I Go? - A Dirnt Story, chapter 3

Two days later. With Mike out of hospital and the short spate of nightly concerts over and having ended on a good note, Tre' had decided to celebrate surviving the shows, and was already much the worse after drinking almost four bottles of vintage champagne. Billie however had been unable to forget the cold look that Mike kept giving him, watching his every move, but keeping his distance at all times. He'd refused to join them that night, and said he wanted to stay in and brush up his technique, which he had become more and more dissatisfied with of late. "Why din't Mike want' ta come with us tonight anyhow?" slurred Tre', giving his friend an unsteady look from behind his glass.

Billie toyed awkwardly with his facial expression, debating whether to answer with simple fact, or give the real reason that he didn't think their lanky companion had been particularly sociable lately. "I guess he just didn't feel like it, he's been sober for the last few days you know, I'm pretty proud of him, but you know, he's worrying me a little," he explained, watching Tre' drain yet another glass of champagne.
"An' why'zat?" he replied, grinning a little, "'cause he ain't drinkin'?"
"No, he keeps saying these weird things, keeps talking about death all the time and...." His voice tailed off as he realised that Tre' had laid his head on the table and was dead to the world.

Grateful for once for Tre's obsession with keeping his weight down, Billie scooped the limp form into his arms and dropped him off at his hotel room before climbing the stairs to his own. The voice came out of nowhere, but just as if he had too, Mike stepped out from behind his friend smoothly and silently, "Missed me? I see Tre's been out on the town again, Is he okay? I've heard that people can die if they're left when they're that drunk."

Having recovered from the shock of the sudden appearance, Billie glanced over at the figure he had come to regard with such fear. He seemed to have grown taller by quite a few inches, and with it grown leaner than ever. His skin was almost grey in the lamplight, and his scraggy crop of bleached hair hung in lank strands over his gaunt face. "Looking pretty bad there Mike, I'd invite you in but I'm really tired, see you tomorrow," Billie replied quickly, his heart pounding in his throat. Mike dipped one hand into the pocket of his long leather coat, "Billie, I found this little fella today. Wondered if you want to take care of him. Your sons will love him," he said, producing a long black snake, which curled round his arm tightly and hissed in a vicious manner.

Immediately Billie drew back, but Mike followed, holding the snake out to him
"Mike! What's wrong with you? That thing looks really dangerous!"
"Hold him Billie, he's quite tame, go on."
"Leave me alone! you've gone crazy you know, just leave me alone and go get drunk or something!"
"Why don't we go together, Billie , I've heard they serve a great cocktail at the hotel bar, with cyanide in."
"YOU'RE FUCKIN' CRAZY MIKE!!!! Are you trying to kill me?!"
"Death isn't so bad, Billie."

Almost weeping with fear, Billie slammed the door, and sank back against it, trembling. He couldn't sleep that night, and paced his room until the early hours, chain-smoking for comfort, but still feeling the cold presence there. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew that he was the only one who was aware of it, Tre' knew nothing of the situation but Billie saw everything. He saw the calculating look as the bassist held out a deadly snake to him, he saw the menace with which a cyanide-spiked cocktail was suggested, and he felt the fear. His heart was still pounding, he thought once or twice about calling for something to eat to try and help calm his nerves, but felt too sick with fear to eat or drink nothing. By the time morning came he was rabid with exhaustion and terror. His swarthy skin had paled over and his hands shook so badly that he doubted he could even play guitar in his condition.

"That's it, this has gone far enough. I'm gonna finish this," he breathed, grabbing his jacket and storming out to sort the situation with his morbid friend.