Carpe Diem, chapter 7
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
At about ten in morning I opened the door for the hairstylist that Mayday uses. She cut my hair to my dad's style when it's on the long side. I was the only one in the house; I'd made Mom and Dad go to Mike's to get ready and the boys were at a friend's house trick-or-treating there. She cut my hair and then left; this was gonna be easy. Gramma Ollie's party started at noon, so by the time the hairstylist left, I had an hour to get ready.
I pulled on the skinny black jeans that Dad wore, the studded belt, the black shirt, the red tie, even the black with white polka dotted handkerchief in the back pocket. I gelled my hair to be the messed-up style he used, and then spent about ten minutes applying the right amount of eyeliner. When I stood back to look at myself, it was scary. If I stood next to Dad, you wouldn't be able to tell us apart besides the tattoos. The finishing touch was the pair of black platform shoes Dad wore for his concerts.
I checked my watch. Right on time. I'd scheduled myself to be fashionably late so that everyone would already be there when I got there. I had about ten minutes to wait, where I admired myself in the mirror and adjusted everything to the right look. Of course, I remembered with about five minutes left that I should be wearing a breastband (you know, one of those things that straps them down so you can't see them). I put it on quickly and realized what a pain in the ass it was, and then checked myself again and left. I'd asked Dad if I could borrow his black BMW for the full effect, and as I drove up, the door flew open and people streamed out to see how I'd come. Like I said, I always blew everyone away with my costumes. I grabbed my Blue replica from the backseat and opened the door.
I could almost hear people holding their breaths as I got out of the car.
There was murmuring all through the crowd and everyone looked over at Dad, who looked confused as well. "Alright, now I can't tell which one I am," he muttered finally, even though he was wearing a football uniform to match Mom's cheerleader costume.
"That's easy," I grinned, "I'm Billie Joe Armstrong and you're just...a football player." I closed the door and came around the car into Gramma Ollie's arms. "Hi Gramma."
"Hello, sweetheart," she smiled warmly, "How's life been treating you?"
"Well I'm sure Dad told you we're done recording and the record's supposed to be released tomorrow," I said.
She nodded and then we went inside, where I was swept away from my grandmother by my boyfriend. "Hey," Tré murmured.
"Hello...uh...grim reaper," I mumbled, looking at Tré's long hood and scythe.
"Very good," he laughed, "But where are your beautiful breasts? They're gone and now I have nothing to...uh...reap."
"It's called a breastband," I said, "And just so you know, it's painful as fuck."
***Tré's POV***
"And your hair! It's all gone!" I wailed.
"It'll grow back," she answered, "Watch this." She put the guitar strap around her shoulder and plugged Blue (or replica) into a portable amp on her belt. She played the opening riff to American Idiot and everyone turned to look at her. It was scary; she was her father...and he was a football player.
I looked over at Billie Joe, who was laughing hysterically at her comic impression of him. Mike was standing next to him, or I should say, Mike the pink bunny. I sighed and came back to Billee Jo, who was laughing at something Jason White had just said to her. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close against my chest and buried my face in her shoulder.
"You okay?" she asked, wrapping her arms around my neck. I shook my head. "What's up, babe? What's wrong?"
I took her hand and led her away from the crowd; back outside where it was quiet and cool at 12:30 on the late October day. "What's wrong?" she asked again, brushing my nose with her lips.
"I dunno," I finally answered, "I just feel...really down in the dumps, you know?" I paused. "Like I just wanna go home and sleep."
"Do you know why?" she asked, sitting on the front step and patting the spot beside her for me.
I sat. "I never get to spend any time with you anymore," I mumbled, resting my head on my arms which were resting on my knees. "I like spending time with you."
She laughed quietly as I brushed my fingertips across her forehead and down her cheek. "As of tomorrow night, I'm yours till we go to the Grammys. And even then, I'm yours," she murmured, removing the hood from my head and running a hand through my hair.
"And when I look at you and you look like your dad...it just makes me want to club myself in the head," I joked.
"Why's that?"
"I've already dated him...I don't fancy repeating that." I shrugged.
She giggled. "Did you really date him?" she asked, serious now.
I shifted so I was leaning against a post and pulled her between my knees. She rested her head on my chest and I sighed, "Yep."
Her head shot up. "You did?"
"What, your old man never told you?" She shook her head. "Yea, we dated for a while in early '91."
"I thought you classified yourself as straight, and here you are telling me you're bisexual," she muttered.
I leaned my head back and thought about this turn of events. "Mmm, well if you really want to label...I guess I'm bisexual. But...Billie's the only man I've ever slept with, if that's what you wanna know."
Billee looked a little shocked. "I can't believe he didn't tell me that when we were first dating," she sighed angrily.
"It's not like it's a bad thing, necessarily," I reasoned.
"I never said it was," she replied, "But you'd think someone would have told me that my boyfriend slept with my dad." She stood up and went back inside.
***Billie Joe's POV***
I was standing with Adie when I came through the front door. I was confused again for a minute before realizing it was just Billee. An angry looking Billee, though. She stormed right up to me and grabbed the front of my shirt and practically dragged me outside to where I could see Tré watching us from his seat on the porch. "What?" I asked, "What's up?"
"I can't believe you never told me!" she raged.
"Uh...told you what?"
"You...and Tré...and..." she made an annoyed noise and pulled at her hair. "You would not even believe how pissed at you I am right now!"
"Why?" I asked again.
"I can't even bear to be wearing the clothes you do!" she said, and pulled the keys to my car out of her pocket.
She stormed away from me and over to the car, where she got in and screeched away. I stood looking after her for a few moments before turning and walking over to Tré and sitting down beside him.
"What was she talking about?" I asked him.
He sighed. "The fact that we dated back in 1991 really freaked her out," he answered, still looking out into the street where my car had just been, carrying my twin away from the house and her family.
"Oh," was all I could manage.
"Do you wanna go after her, or should I?" he asked slowly.
"You," I muttered, "I doubt she'd talk to me. She's ashamed to call me her father at the moment." He nodded and we both stood up.
He followed me inside to say goodbye to my mom, but instead of going towards her, I went back to Adie, my insides feeling like they were being torn apart.
"What was that about?" Adie murmured, looking concernedly at my face, which I'm sure was mirroring my pain.
"Remember how I told you that Tré and I dated in '91?" I said. She nodded. "Billee just found out. And was pissed. And now she's gone home because she can't bear to look at me, or look like me, even. I daresay when we get back there, we'll be looking at the back of a head and a pillow." I watched as Tré slipped out the door again.
"Well, you can't blame her for being disturbed that her dad slept with her boyfriend," Adie said, "Besides, it probably woulda been better to tell her before. I doubt it would be so hard."
I shrugged. "Can't take back the past, can I?" I mumbled quietly, "If I could, I doubt she'd even be here."
***Tré's POV***
I went back to Billie's house, where I figured she'd be, and found the front door unlocked. I went upstairs to her room and opened the door. Sure enough, there she was, loosening her tie, pulling it off, and then throwing it across the room in rage. Her hair was even more messed up than before since she'd run her fingers through it multiple times, and she turned to the door when I opened it. She turned away again and then she was taking off the shirt so she could get at the breastband, which I'm sure by that time was killing her. I stepped forward to help her, unable to resist my...manly temptations. She looked at me when I started unraveling it and sighed, the muscles in her shoulders relaxing slightly. "I'm sorry," she murmured quietly, "I'm being stupid." She stopped. "I'm just so...ugh!" She ran her hand through her short hair again. "I'm not mad at you," she finally said, "...Okay, maybe a little mad." She showed how much by the space between her finger and thumb. I chuckled and kissed her, feeling her wrap her arms around my neck as I kept unwrapping the breastband. I backed her up against the bed as I dropped the cloth to the floor and we fell onto it. And it went on from there.
Wednesday, November 1, 2006
I met Billee, Billie, Marc, Chad and Ashley at the party for the release of their first record; In Loving Memory (I suppose of their old guitarist). When she stepped out of the limo, Billee Jo looked really ticked, as did Billie and Ashley. I pecked her lips and asked her what was wrong.
"Well, first, I didn't even get any say in what we named the album," she muttered, "And Ashley's just a dick."
"He's a rock star. You told me yourself that you can tell about a person by how they treat their instruments," I answered, "And Ashley's awful to his bass." She nodded and looked down. "Hey, you're supposed to be smiling," I murmured, hooking a finger under her chin and pulling her face up to look at me. "Be happy." She smiled gently and so did I, and then I kissed her again and we went into the party.
***Billee Jo's POV***
Tré always knew how to make me feel better. I loved him for it (among other things). The party was okay besides the whole Ashley being a total asshole the whole time.
But I suppose you all want to hear about the Grammys and the riff we created there...
At about ten in morning I opened the door for the hairstylist that Mayday uses. She cut my hair to my dad's style when it's on the long side. I was the only one in the house; I'd made Mom and Dad go to Mike's to get ready and the boys were at a friend's house trick-or-treating there. She cut my hair and then left; this was gonna be easy. Gramma Ollie's party started at noon, so by the time the hairstylist left, I had an hour to get ready.
I pulled on the skinny black jeans that Dad wore, the studded belt, the black shirt, the red tie, even the black with white polka dotted handkerchief in the back pocket. I gelled my hair to be the messed-up style he used, and then spent about ten minutes applying the right amount of eyeliner. When I stood back to look at myself, it was scary. If I stood next to Dad, you wouldn't be able to tell us apart besides the tattoos. The finishing touch was the pair of black platform shoes Dad wore for his concerts.
I checked my watch. Right on time. I'd scheduled myself to be fashionably late so that everyone would already be there when I got there. I had about ten minutes to wait, where I admired myself in the mirror and adjusted everything to the right look. Of course, I remembered with about five minutes left that I should be wearing a breastband (you know, one of those things that straps them down so you can't see them). I put it on quickly and realized what a pain in the ass it was, and then checked myself again and left. I'd asked Dad if I could borrow his black BMW for the full effect, and as I drove up, the door flew open and people streamed out to see how I'd come. Like I said, I always blew everyone away with my costumes. I grabbed my Blue replica from the backseat and opened the door.
I could almost hear people holding their breaths as I got out of the car.
There was murmuring all through the crowd and everyone looked over at Dad, who looked confused as well. "Alright, now I can't tell which one I am," he muttered finally, even though he was wearing a football uniform to match Mom's cheerleader costume.
"That's easy," I grinned, "I'm Billie Joe Armstrong and you're just...a football player." I closed the door and came around the car into Gramma Ollie's arms. "Hi Gramma."
"Hello, sweetheart," she smiled warmly, "How's life been treating you?"
"Well I'm sure Dad told you we're done recording and the record's supposed to be released tomorrow," I said.
She nodded and then we went inside, where I was swept away from my grandmother by my boyfriend. "Hey," Tré murmured.
"Hello...uh...grim reaper," I mumbled, looking at Tré's long hood and scythe.
"Very good," he laughed, "But where are your beautiful breasts? They're gone and now I have nothing to...uh...reap."
"It's called a breastband," I said, "And just so you know, it's painful as fuck."
***Tré's POV***
"And your hair! It's all gone!" I wailed.
"It'll grow back," she answered, "Watch this." She put the guitar strap around her shoulder and plugged Blue (or replica) into a portable amp on her belt. She played the opening riff to American Idiot and everyone turned to look at her. It was scary; she was her father...and he was a football player.
I looked over at Billie Joe, who was laughing hysterically at her comic impression of him. Mike was standing next to him, or I should say, Mike the pink bunny. I sighed and came back to Billee Jo, who was laughing at something Jason White had just said to her. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close against my chest and buried my face in her shoulder.
"You okay?" she asked, wrapping her arms around my neck. I shook my head. "What's up, babe? What's wrong?"
I took her hand and led her away from the crowd; back outside where it was quiet and cool at 12:30 on the late October day. "What's wrong?" she asked again, brushing my nose with her lips.
"I dunno," I finally answered, "I just feel...really down in the dumps, you know?" I paused. "Like I just wanna go home and sleep."
"Do you know why?" she asked, sitting on the front step and patting the spot beside her for me.
I sat. "I never get to spend any time with you anymore," I mumbled, resting my head on my arms which were resting on my knees. "I like spending time with you."
She laughed quietly as I brushed my fingertips across her forehead and down her cheek. "As of tomorrow night, I'm yours till we go to the Grammys. And even then, I'm yours," she murmured, removing the hood from my head and running a hand through my hair.
"And when I look at you and you look like your dad...it just makes me want to club myself in the head," I joked.
"Why's that?"
"I've already dated him...I don't fancy repeating that." I shrugged.
She giggled. "Did you really date him?" she asked, serious now.
I shifted so I was leaning against a post and pulled her between my knees. She rested her head on my chest and I sighed, "Yep."
Her head shot up. "You did?"
"What, your old man never told you?" She shook her head. "Yea, we dated for a while in early '91."
"I thought you classified yourself as straight, and here you are telling me you're bisexual," she muttered.
I leaned my head back and thought about this turn of events. "Mmm, well if you really want to label...I guess I'm bisexual. But...Billie's the only man I've ever slept with, if that's what you wanna know."
Billee looked a little shocked. "I can't believe he didn't tell me that when we were first dating," she sighed angrily.
"It's not like it's a bad thing, necessarily," I reasoned.
"I never said it was," she replied, "But you'd think someone would have told me that my boyfriend slept with my dad." She stood up and went back inside.
***Billie Joe's POV***
I was standing with Adie when I came through the front door. I was confused again for a minute before realizing it was just Billee. An angry looking Billee, though. She stormed right up to me and grabbed the front of my shirt and practically dragged me outside to where I could see Tré watching us from his seat on the porch. "What?" I asked, "What's up?"
"I can't believe you never told me!" she raged.
"Uh...told you what?"
"You...and Tré...and..." she made an annoyed noise and pulled at her hair. "You would not even believe how pissed at you I am right now!"
"Why?" I asked again.
"I can't even bear to be wearing the clothes you do!" she said, and pulled the keys to my car out of her pocket.
She stormed away from me and over to the car, where she got in and screeched away. I stood looking after her for a few moments before turning and walking over to Tré and sitting down beside him.
"What was she talking about?" I asked him.
He sighed. "The fact that we dated back in 1991 really freaked her out," he answered, still looking out into the street where my car had just been, carrying my twin away from the house and her family.
"Oh," was all I could manage.
"Do you wanna go after her, or should I?" he asked slowly.
"You," I muttered, "I doubt she'd talk to me. She's ashamed to call me her father at the moment." He nodded and we both stood up.
He followed me inside to say goodbye to my mom, but instead of going towards her, I went back to Adie, my insides feeling like they were being torn apart.
"What was that about?" Adie murmured, looking concernedly at my face, which I'm sure was mirroring my pain.
"Remember how I told you that Tré and I dated in '91?" I said. She nodded. "Billee just found out. And was pissed. And now she's gone home because she can't bear to look at me, or look like me, even. I daresay when we get back there, we'll be looking at the back of a head and a pillow." I watched as Tré slipped out the door again.
"Well, you can't blame her for being disturbed that her dad slept with her boyfriend," Adie said, "Besides, it probably woulda been better to tell her before. I doubt it would be so hard."
I shrugged. "Can't take back the past, can I?" I mumbled quietly, "If I could, I doubt she'd even be here."
***Tré's POV***
I went back to Billie's house, where I figured she'd be, and found the front door unlocked. I went upstairs to her room and opened the door. Sure enough, there she was, loosening her tie, pulling it off, and then throwing it across the room in rage. Her hair was even more messed up than before since she'd run her fingers through it multiple times, and she turned to the door when I opened it. She turned away again and then she was taking off the shirt so she could get at the breastband, which I'm sure by that time was killing her. I stepped forward to help her, unable to resist my...manly temptations. She looked at me when I started unraveling it and sighed, the muscles in her shoulders relaxing slightly. "I'm sorry," she murmured quietly, "I'm being stupid." She stopped. "I'm just so...ugh!" She ran her hand through her short hair again. "I'm not mad at you," she finally said, "...Okay, maybe a little mad." She showed how much by the space between her finger and thumb. I chuckled and kissed her, feeling her wrap her arms around my neck as I kept unwrapping the breastband. I backed her up against the bed as I dropped the cloth to the floor and we fell onto it. And it went on from there.
Wednesday, November 1, 2006
I met Billee, Billie, Marc, Chad and Ashley at the party for the release of their first record; In Loving Memory (I suppose of their old guitarist). When she stepped out of the limo, Billee Jo looked really ticked, as did Billie and Ashley. I pecked her lips and asked her what was wrong.
"Well, first, I didn't even get any say in what we named the album," she muttered, "And Ashley's just a dick."
"He's a rock star. You told me yourself that you can tell about a person by how they treat their instruments," I answered, "And Ashley's awful to his bass." She nodded and looked down. "Hey, you're supposed to be smiling," I murmured, hooking a finger under her chin and pulling her face up to look at me. "Be happy." She smiled gently and so did I, and then I kissed her again and we went into the party.
***Billee Jo's POV***
Tré always knew how to make me feel better. I loved him for it (among other things). The party was okay besides the whole Ashley being a total asshole the whole time.
But I suppose you all want to hear about the Grammys and the riff we created there...
