Carpe Diem, chapter 3
Friday, June 30, 2006 (Next day)
"Get up!" Dad's voice was yelling, "Come on, it's two in the afternoon! Get out of bed!" I groaned and put my pillow over my head. He sat down on the bed beside me and pulled it away gently. "Please get up?"
"Don't wanna," I mumbled, my face still buried in the pillow beneath my head. I shivered when he started pushing my hair away from my neck, his fingers trailing lightly across my cheek. "That feels weird."
"What're you doing today?" he asked.
My eyes snapped open and I sat up. All my hair was pushed to one side of my head and I'm sure I looked like crap. "Before anything, I need my coffee," I muttered, and tried to stand up. My foot got tangled in the sheet and I fell over.
***Billie Joe's POV***
I laughed and she stuck her tongue out at me. "So you never said what you were doing today," I said, leaning back on the headboard.
"I...uh...I told Tré he could...um...take me out for dinner," she grumbled, and blushed as the smile left my face.
What was it with her? She was dating both of my best friends...It wasn't gonna end well, especially when I didn't want it to happen in the first place. "So you're...how to put this...renting your body for dinner and a movie," I muttered.
"No, Dad, it's not like that," she said, her eyes already starting to burn with rage.
"Then what's it like?" I yelled, getting off the bed, "Care to explain?"
"You wouldn't get it," she screamed back, "And it's not your business anyway. I'm 20, I'm not a minor, I can deal with my own life!" She left the room and I could hear her rushing down the stairs. I followed quickly and saw her in the kitchen, searching the piled-up table for her purse. She found it and then brushed by me. I became acutely aware that she was still wearing her pyjamas, but she didn't seem to care as she pulled on her shoes and wrenched open the door. Tré was standing there, about to ring the doorbell. "Oh good, you're here," she said, "Come on, we're leaving." She grabbed his hand and started pulling him back down the steps.
My eyes connected with his own confused ones just before he followed Billee down the steps. I turned away first, finding that I couldn't bear to look at him, and probably not at Mike either, after what they were planning with my only daughter.
***Tré's POV***
"Billee, what's going on?" I asked as she pulled me towards my car.
"That..." she was floundering for words, I could tell, "That...asshole is trying to control my fucking life." She let me get in the drivers' seat and I drove us back to my house as she looked out the window at the passing houses.
"You know you're still wearing your pyjamas, right?" I mumbled quietly.
Billee blinked down at herself. "Can we go shopping?" she finally murmured, so quiet I almost couldn't hear. I nodded and turned around towards the mall.
"What first?" I asked as we went inside.
She looked around and pointed to a lingerie store. "Since I'm not going home today, I'm gonna need a bra," she said. She pulled me to a bench outside the store and I sat down.
"I'll wait here to await orders from Drill Sergeant Armstrong," I grinned.
"Defend your position, soldier," she laughed, "Reinforcements are on their way." And then she went into the store.
She came out about ten minutes later with a bag. "What'd you get?" I asked, trying to peek into it.
She slapped my arm. "Mine," she smiled.
"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" I exclaimed, saluting. She giggled and pulled me into another store. And so it went on, until about six, when we finally went home, Billee still in her pyjamas, but with multiple bags of new clothing and shoes.
***Billee Jo's POV***
We went back to Tré's house and I flopped down on his couch, pulling a bag towards me. I started digging through it as Tré sat down beside me and I pulled out a pair of jeans, a black and green striped tee, and a bra. "I'm gonna go change," I said, and took the clothes into the bathroom.
I opened the door to find Tré standing incredibly close to it. "Hello," he smiled.
"Hi," I answered, ducking under his arm and shoving my pyjamas into a bag. "What're we doing for dinner?"
"We were going to go out for dinner," he shrugged, sitting down on the couch again, "But I think, given the current situation, we should get some type of delivery."
"Chinese," I grinned immediately.
"Chinese it is," he nodded, going into the kitchen. He came back a few minutes later with a menu, the phone, and a phone book. "Tell me what to get." I started naming off things and he told them to the order taking person on the other end of the phone.
"So what do you propose we do instead of being out for dinner?" I asked, sinking back into the comfy couch.
"I've got movies," he grinned.
We started watching an old Billy Crystal comedy called Throw Momma From The Train until the doorbell rang. I went and got the food and we sat down, still watching the movie, to eat.
I wasn't having any problems with the chopsticks, but looked over at Tré when he started making frustrated noises. "Would you like some help?" I giggled.
"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" he said. I continued to laugh as I grabbed a piece of pork from his box thingy and ate it.
"Yours is good," I laughed as he looked at me, frustrated.
"You're supposed to be helping me, not eating my food," he pouted.
"Alright, fine," I said, rolling my eyes, and then picked up another piece of pork and let him eat it.
"Thank you, Ma'am, may I have another?" he smiled.
"Go get a fork," I laughed, "I'm not feeding you all night."
"Fine," he sighed, and stood up. I went back to eating my food and watching the movie without problems until he came back and started eating again.
When we were done, we put our boxes on the coffee table and I lay down on my side to continue watching the movie. At about the part when Larry (Billy Crystal) is driving his friend's car, Tré lay down behind me with his head on his hand. And then when Owen (Danny Devito) started telling him he had to kill Owen's mother, Tré put a hand on my waist and began kissing my neck. I personally was falling asleep, and the gentle movement didn't really bother me; as a matter of fact, it was lulling me into sleep.
***Tré's POV***
I pulled her closer to me after a little while and that's when I realized she was asleep. I smiled gently and continued to watch the movie, my arm still wrapped around her waist tightly.
After the movie was over, I turned off the TV and carried Billee Jo upstairs to my room, where I lay her on the bed. I was planning on sleeping on the couch or in one of the guest rooms, but in her sleep she grabbed my shirt and I was kinda stuck. So I settled back onto the bed beside her and we fell asleep.
***Billee Jo's POV***
A few hours later, I woke up in Tré's room, with Tré asleep beside me. I sat up and saw that the French doors to his balcony were open; the balcony overlooking his backyard and pool, which was lit from underwater, giving it a ghostly reflective light that shone on the fence and probably up onto the outside wall of Tré's room. I slid off the bed and went out to the balcony, where I sat on the railing with my feet dangling off so if I fell or jumped, my feet would be the first to land in the water beneath. I sat there and looked around at the backyard and pool for a few minutes.
I jumped and almost fell off the railing when a pair of arms slid around me from behind. "Hey," Tré murmured quietly as I wrapped my legs around the bars of the railing to make myself feel more secure.
"Hey," I yawned.
"What's up? Why're you out here?"
"I woke up," I mumbled, leaning back on him, "And the doors were open."
"It's beautiful out tonight," he muttered.
"It is," I agreed, "Look at the stars."
He did, and after a few minutes of silence, he said, "What's your dad gonna think when you go home tomorrow from staying at my house all night?"
"I don't know," I said quietly, "Whatever it is, I can take it."
"It's not you I'm worried about," he answered, "It's me."
I laughed quietly. "Don't worry. I'll do it alone."
"But I still have to deal with him at the studio. We're still recording, you know," he whined.
"I know. But I doubt he's gonna want to continue recording. He'll probably stop, or at least postpone it till things have died down around here some."
Tré nodded silently and rested his head on my shoulder. "When do you go back to school?" he asked finally.
"I'm supposed to go back in late August," I mumbled.
"Supposed to? What's that mean?"
"It means I don't think I'm going back."
"What do you mean?"
"I think I'm gonna drop out. I doubt I'll use my degree ever," I shrugged, "I never wanted to be a businesswoman."
"What're you gonna do with your life?"
"What you do. What Dad does. Music is my passion, Tré, you should know that by now," I murmured, "It won't be difficult for me to find people who need a band member. And being Billie Joe Armstrong's daughter can't be bad either."
He sighed. "And once you're a big shot rock star, once you've got it all; fame, fortune, all that stuff everyone wants at some point, will you remember me? Or will you look back and say, 'I knew this guy one time...what was his name?'" he asked, "What'll happen to the life you have now; your friends, your family?"
I thought about his question, looking down into the pool as though it could offer the words I needed to say. "It'll never be like that," I whispered finally, "Before music, fame, fortune, before everything else, comes family. Without this family, without my life and my friends, I wouldn't even ever have dreamed of being a musician. But all that, everything I want about music, would be worth absolutely nothing; would mean squat to me if I didn't have my family."
"And me? Where do I fall in your grand scheme of things?"
"I don't know," I paused for a few moments, feeling him holding his breath behind me, "I just don't know yet. But, Tré, I know that when I hit it big, that first number one record or song or whatever it ends up as, Tré, I promise, you'll be the first to know."
We were silent for about ten minutes after that; both of us thinking our own thoughts. "You've changed so much," Tré finally whispered, "You're not the same anymore." I waited for him to explain. "I remember you used to always wear baggy clothes...and now...what you wear...accentuates your figure, you know? And...and it's not just that. You always used to be really shy and...I don't know, I wanna say embarrassed, but that's not the right word..."
"I came out of my shell," I finished for him.
"Yea...yea, I guess that's what I wanted to say," he nodded, "I like it. It makes you even more like your father."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Good, I think," he said, his voice still quiet as though he were telling me a secret instead of telling me I'm different. "You're not exactly him...and that's good too."
We fell back into silence again until I yawned widely and stretched my arms up above my head. "Tired?" Tré asked.
"Mhm," I nodded, my eyes already closing.
***Tré's POV***
I carried her back into the bedroom and set her down on the bed and then lay down beside her. Pretty soon, we were both asleep again.
Saturday, July 1, 2006
My eyes flicked open when I heard music; not my radio...or a CD. I don't buy acoustic guitar music, especially voiceless. But then there was a voice; a woman's voice...Billee Jo. The song was Good Riddance, I finally realized, the complicated version that Billie played at concerts and in the video. When the song was over, I sat up slowly and looked around to find Billee sitting on the end of my bed with my guitar in her lap, running her fingers over the stickers carefully as though it was a priceless heirloom that might crumble and break if she touched it too roughly. "You won't break it by touching the stickers," I murmured, watching her turn and smirk.
"I know," she shrugged, "But living with Dad made me appreciate music and instruments and how much they can mean to a person." She paused. "And how you can always decide if a musician is a good person or not by how they treat their instruments and their music; is it just their job, or is it their whole life?"
We sat like that for a while and I just then realized how this girl was wise beyond her twenty years. And it just made me want her more.
Suddenly she put the guitar on the bed and stood up. "I should get home," she muttered decisively, "Or I'll be in even more trouble."
I nodded slowly and stood up too. "I'll drive you home," I offered. She nodded and followed me to the living room, where she got all her bags and we went to my car.
I pulled into her driveway and she opened the door slowly. "Call me if you need me," I told her.
"Don't worry," she smiled weakly, and I could see that she was a little worried too. "I'll be fine."
I nodded (again!). "Call me when it's over, then," I said, "I gotta know what's up."
"I will," she answered, and then she was gone, bags and all.
***Billie Joe's POV***
I watched her and Tré talk in the car before she got out, and then she was coming up the path with like eighteen bags in her hands. I opened the door for her and she came in, dropping her bags on the floor and kicking off her shoes.
"How was, uh, how was Tré's?" I asked awkwardly, still staring at the bags.
"I didn't sleep with him, if that's what you're asking," she snapped.
I looked back up at her. "That's not what I..." I sighed, "We need to talk."
"I agree," she muttered, "Let me just take these upstairs."
I nodded. "I'll be in the kitchen," I mumbled, and went in there and sat down to wait for her. Finally she sat down across from me. "I don't like being mad at you," I murmured.
"I know," she sighed, "But Dad, you have to realize that it's my life and I can deal with it."
"I just don't want to see you get hurt."
"Get up!" Dad's voice was yelling, "Come on, it's two in the afternoon! Get out of bed!" I groaned and put my pillow over my head. He sat down on the bed beside me and pulled it away gently. "Please get up?"
"Don't wanna," I mumbled, my face still buried in the pillow beneath my head. I shivered when he started pushing my hair away from my neck, his fingers trailing lightly across my cheek. "That feels weird."
"What're you doing today?" he asked.
My eyes snapped open and I sat up. All my hair was pushed to one side of my head and I'm sure I looked like crap. "Before anything, I need my coffee," I muttered, and tried to stand up. My foot got tangled in the sheet and I fell over.
***Billie Joe's POV***
I laughed and she stuck her tongue out at me. "So you never said what you were doing today," I said, leaning back on the headboard.
"I...uh...I told Tré he could...um...take me out for dinner," she grumbled, and blushed as the smile left my face.
What was it with her? She was dating both of my best friends...It wasn't gonna end well, especially when I didn't want it to happen in the first place. "So you're...how to put this...renting your body for dinner and a movie," I muttered.
"No, Dad, it's not like that," she said, her eyes already starting to burn with rage.
"Then what's it like?" I yelled, getting off the bed, "Care to explain?"
"You wouldn't get it," she screamed back, "And it's not your business anyway. I'm 20, I'm not a minor, I can deal with my own life!" She left the room and I could hear her rushing down the stairs. I followed quickly and saw her in the kitchen, searching the piled-up table for her purse. She found it and then brushed by me. I became acutely aware that she was still wearing her pyjamas, but she didn't seem to care as she pulled on her shoes and wrenched open the door. Tré was standing there, about to ring the doorbell. "Oh good, you're here," she said, "Come on, we're leaving." She grabbed his hand and started pulling him back down the steps.
My eyes connected with his own confused ones just before he followed Billee down the steps. I turned away first, finding that I couldn't bear to look at him, and probably not at Mike either, after what they were planning with my only daughter.
***Tré's POV***
"Billee, what's going on?" I asked as she pulled me towards my car.
"That..." she was floundering for words, I could tell, "That...asshole is trying to control my fucking life." She let me get in the drivers' seat and I drove us back to my house as she looked out the window at the passing houses.
"You know you're still wearing your pyjamas, right?" I mumbled quietly.
Billee blinked down at herself. "Can we go shopping?" she finally murmured, so quiet I almost couldn't hear. I nodded and turned around towards the mall.
"What first?" I asked as we went inside.
She looked around and pointed to a lingerie store. "Since I'm not going home today, I'm gonna need a bra," she said. She pulled me to a bench outside the store and I sat down.
"I'll wait here to await orders from Drill Sergeant Armstrong," I grinned.
"Defend your position, soldier," she laughed, "Reinforcements are on their way." And then she went into the store.
She came out about ten minutes later with a bag. "What'd you get?" I asked, trying to peek into it.
She slapped my arm. "Mine," she smiled.
"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" I exclaimed, saluting. She giggled and pulled me into another store. And so it went on, until about six, when we finally went home, Billee still in her pyjamas, but with multiple bags of new clothing and shoes.
***Billee Jo's POV***
We went back to Tré's house and I flopped down on his couch, pulling a bag towards me. I started digging through it as Tré sat down beside me and I pulled out a pair of jeans, a black and green striped tee, and a bra. "I'm gonna go change," I said, and took the clothes into the bathroom.
I opened the door to find Tré standing incredibly close to it. "Hello," he smiled.
"Hi," I answered, ducking under his arm and shoving my pyjamas into a bag. "What're we doing for dinner?"
"We were going to go out for dinner," he shrugged, sitting down on the couch again, "But I think, given the current situation, we should get some type of delivery."
"Chinese," I grinned immediately.
"Chinese it is," he nodded, going into the kitchen. He came back a few minutes later with a menu, the phone, and a phone book. "Tell me what to get." I started naming off things and he told them to the order taking person on the other end of the phone.
"So what do you propose we do instead of being out for dinner?" I asked, sinking back into the comfy couch.
"I've got movies," he grinned.
We started watching an old Billy Crystal comedy called Throw Momma From The Train until the doorbell rang. I went and got the food and we sat down, still watching the movie, to eat.
I wasn't having any problems with the chopsticks, but looked over at Tré when he started making frustrated noises. "Would you like some help?" I giggled.
"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" he said. I continued to laugh as I grabbed a piece of pork from his box thingy and ate it.
"Yours is good," I laughed as he looked at me, frustrated.
"You're supposed to be helping me, not eating my food," he pouted.
"Alright, fine," I said, rolling my eyes, and then picked up another piece of pork and let him eat it.
"Thank you, Ma'am, may I have another?" he smiled.
"Go get a fork," I laughed, "I'm not feeding you all night."
"Fine," he sighed, and stood up. I went back to eating my food and watching the movie without problems until he came back and started eating again.
When we were done, we put our boxes on the coffee table and I lay down on my side to continue watching the movie. At about the part when Larry (Billy Crystal) is driving his friend's car, Tré lay down behind me with his head on his hand. And then when Owen (Danny Devito) started telling him he had to kill Owen's mother, Tré put a hand on my waist and began kissing my neck. I personally was falling asleep, and the gentle movement didn't really bother me; as a matter of fact, it was lulling me into sleep.
***Tré's POV***
I pulled her closer to me after a little while and that's when I realized she was asleep. I smiled gently and continued to watch the movie, my arm still wrapped around her waist tightly.
After the movie was over, I turned off the TV and carried Billee Jo upstairs to my room, where I lay her on the bed. I was planning on sleeping on the couch or in one of the guest rooms, but in her sleep she grabbed my shirt and I was kinda stuck. So I settled back onto the bed beside her and we fell asleep.
***Billee Jo's POV***
A few hours later, I woke up in Tré's room, with Tré asleep beside me. I sat up and saw that the French doors to his balcony were open; the balcony overlooking his backyard and pool, which was lit from underwater, giving it a ghostly reflective light that shone on the fence and probably up onto the outside wall of Tré's room. I slid off the bed and went out to the balcony, where I sat on the railing with my feet dangling off so if I fell or jumped, my feet would be the first to land in the water beneath. I sat there and looked around at the backyard and pool for a few minutes.
I jumped and almost fell off the railing when a pair of arms slid around me from behind. "Hey," Tré murmured quietly as I wrapped my legs around the bars of the railing to make myself feel more secure.
"Hey," I yawned.
"What's up? Why're you out here?"
"I woke up," I mumbled, leaning back on him, "And the doors were open."
"It's beautiful out tonight," he muttered.
"It is," I agreed, "Look at the stars."
He did, and after a few minutes of silence, he said, "What's your dad gonna think when you go home tomorrow from staying at my house all night?"
"I don't know," I said quietly, "Whatever it is, I can take it."
"It's not you I'm worried about," he answered, "It's me."
I laughed quietly. "Don't worry. I'll do it alone."
"But I still have to deal with him at the studio. We're still recording, you know," he whined.
"I know. But I doubt he's gonna want to continue recording. He'll probably stop, or at least postpone it till things have died down around here some."
Tré nodded silently and rested his head on my shoulder. "When do you go back to school?" he asked finally.
"I'm supposed to go back in late August," I mumbled.
"Supposed to? What's that mean?"
"It means I don't think I'm going back."
"What do you mean?"
"I think I'm gonna drop out. I doubt I'll use my degree ever," I shrugged, "I never wanted to be a businesswoman."
"What're you gonna do with your life?"
"What you do. What Dad does. Music is my passion, Tré, you should know that by now," I murmured, "It won't be difficult for me to find people who need a band member. And being Billie Joe Armstrong's daughter can't be bad either."
He sighed. "And once you're a big shot rock star, once you've got it all; fame, fortune, all that stuff everyone wants at some point, will you remember me? Or will you look back and say, 'I knew this guy one time...what was his name?'" he asked, "What'll happen to the life you have now; your friends, your family?"
I thought about his question, looking down into the pool as though it could offer the words I needed to say. "It'll never be like that," I whispered finally, "Before music, fame, fortune, before everything else, comes family. Without this family, without my life and my friends, I wouldn't even ever have dreamed of being a musician. But all that, everything I want about music, would be worth absolutely nothing; would mean squat to me if I didn't have my family."
"And me? Where do I fall in your grand scheme of things?"
"I don't know," I paused for a few moments, feeling him holding his breath behind me, "I just don't know yet. But, Tré, I know that when I hit it big, that first number one record or song or whatever it ends up as, Tré, I promise, you'll be the first to know."
We were silent for about ten minutes after that; both of us thinking our own thoughts. "You've changed so much," Tré finally whispered, "You're not the same anymore." I waited for him to explain. "I remember you used to always wear baggy clothes...and now...what you wear...accentuates your figure, you know? And...and it's not just that. You always used to be really shy and...I don't know, I wanna say embarrassed, but that's not the right word..."
"I came out of my shell," I finished for him.
"Yea...yea, I guess that's what I wanted to say," he nodded, "I like it. It makes you even more like your father."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Good, I think," he said, his voice still quiet as though he were telling me a secret instead of telling me I'm different. "You're not exactly him...and that's good too."
We fell back into silence again until I yawned widely and stretched my arms up above my head. "Tired?" Tré asked.
"Mhm," I nodded, my eyes already closing.
***Tré's POV***
I carried her back into the bedroom and set her down on the bed and then lay down beside her. Pretty soon, we were both asleep again.
Saturday, July 1, 2006
My eyes flicked open when I heard music; not my radio...or a CD. I don't buy acoustic guitar music, especially voiceless. But then there was a voice; a woman's voice...Billee Jo. The song was Good Riddance, I finally realized, the complicated version that Billie played at concerts and in the video. When the song was over, I sat up slowly and looked around to find Billee sitting on the end of my bed with my guitar in her lap, running her fingers over the stickers carefully as though it was a priceless heirloom that might crumble and break if she touched it too roughly. "You won't break it by touching the stickers," I murmured, watching her turn and smirk.
"I know," she shrugged, "But living with Dad made me appreciate music and instruments and how much they can mean to a person." She paused. "And how you can always decide if a musician is a good person or not by how they treat their instruments and their music; is it just their job, or is it their whole life?"
We sat like that for a while and I just then realized how this girl was wise beyond her twenty years. And it just made me want her more.
Suddenly she put the guitar on the bed and stood up. "I should get home," she muttered decisively, "Or I'll be in even more trouble."
I nodded slowly and stood up too. "I'll drive you home," I offered. She nodded and followed me to the living room, where she got all her bags and we went to my car.
I pulled into her driveway and she opened the door slowly. "Call me if you need me," I told her.
"Don't worry," she smiled weakly, and I could see that she was a little worried too. "I'll be fine."
I nodded (again!). "Call me when it's over, then," I said, "I gotta know what's up."
"I will," she answered, and then she was gone, bags and all.
***Billie Joe's POV***
I watched her and Tré talk in the car before she got out, and then she was coming up the path with like eighteen bags in her hands. I opened the door for her and she came in, dropping her bags on the floor and kicking off her shoes.
"How was, uh, how was Tré's?" I asked awkwardly, still staring at the bags.
"I didn't sleep with him, if that's what you're asking," she snapped.
I looked back up at her. "That's not what I..." I sighed, "We need to talk."
"I agree," she muttered, "Let me just take these upstairs."
I nodded. "I'll be in the kitchen," I mumbled, and went in there and sat down to wait for her. Finally she sat down across from me. "I don't like being mad at you," I murmured.
"I know," she sighed, "But Dad, you have to realize that it's my life and I can deal with it."
"I just don't want to see you get hurt."
