Worry Rock

Billie Joe lounged back in the recliner, resting his feet up on the coffee table, a pen in one hand with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, too lazy to step outside to smoke it. The fact that he thought no one was home made it even better. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes and taking a slow drag, feeling pressure from his bandmates on his shoulders, expecting him to show up the next day with award-winning songs when he felt as if his mind was blank. His eyes snapped open as he felt the cigarette leave his mouth, only for his eyes to meet his wife's. "Oh," he mumbled, "Oh, hi babe."

I smiled, kissing his cheek, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray that sat on the coffee table in front of his foot before walking over back to him, leaning on the back of the recliner. He sat up more, turning to look at me, chewing on the end of his pen. He puckered his lips, looking up at me, wanting a kiss. I giggled, "You taste like an ashtray. And I told you no smoking in the house."

"Sorry," he said in a small voice, bowing his head as if he were a child, then looked up at me. I grinned, kissing his cheek once again as he settled back on the recliner, throwing the notebook he had in his hands onto the ground, pulling me onto his lap. "I'm getting that feeling again," he said softly.

"What feeling?"

"That my writing is shit. That whatever I'm going to write is going to make Mike and Tre laugh at me."

"They never do that, darling," I cooed, wrapping an arm around him, still perched on his lap.

"I know. But I feel like they will," he paused, sighing, "I'm getting too old for this."

"Look at the Rolling Stones," I joked, kissing his neck.

Billie Joe smiled, scooting down more in the seat, wrapping his arms around my waist, "They sucked as they turned older, babe. And it's not just that. It's that I want to spend time with my family. Sydney's a teenager now, and I've only been home for half of her life. I've been with you for thirteen years, and I've probably only seen you about eight in total. I'm just...you know, the older I get the more sick of it I am. I'm sick of leaving my wife and child behind, even though you come to visit me on tour. I'm nearly fifty, and I want to settle down."

"So tell Mike and Tre that."

He sighed, resting his head on my shoulder, "But they're not in my position. Their kids are all grown up like Joey and Jakob. Yeah, Tre's married, but it's easy for Rachel to go with him on tour. It's easy for him to see her. It's hard for me to see you and Sydney."

I kissed him gently, running a hand through his tousled hair, "We both understand, though. It's what you do. You were singing on stage long before we came along."

"I know," he murmured, "But it's so hard to leave. So hard to leave you and her behind."

*



"Sydney," Billie Joe cooed, "Sydney, sweetheart, you want to hug daddy goodbye?"

"No," she said sternly, causing Billie Joe to flinch.

He bent down, opening his arms. "Sweetheart, I've got to go."

She glared at her father, stomping over to me, hugging my leg tightly, nearly knocking me over. "You can't leave. Tell him he can't leave, mommy."

I looked down at her, then back to Billie Joe who hesitated, standing up once again. "Baby, I've got to. Your Uncle Tre will be here soon to pick me up."

"I don't care," she whimpered, "You can't go. I won't let you!"

The older man looked at me desperately before his daughter. "I've got to," he repeated slowly.

She stepped away from me, stamping her foot down onto the wooden floor, "No you don't! You and mommy always tell me no one has to do what they don't want to! You don't have to, Daddy! Please don't."

Billie Joe felt his mouth go dry, having wished she wouldn't act like this. "But sweetie, I do have to. It's my job, baby."

"So get a different one!" she cried out.

"I can't, sweetheart."

"Yes you can!"

I crouched down next to Sydney, placing an arm on her shoulder, pulling her into a hug as Billie Joe stared at us, feeling his heart ache. "I'll call every night, baby," he murmured.

"It's not the same," she croaked, not looking at him.

"I know, but it's better than nothing, hunny. I'll write to you and everything."

"You told me you'd never leave us."

Billie Joe sighed, coming over to us and squatting down, placing a hand on her small back. "I'm not, baby. I'll be back. Sweetie, please don't make this any harder for daddy than it already is."

"It's not fair."

"I know it's not. Trust me, baby doll, I know it's not fair. But it's life. And I'll be back. Now please, baby, give daddy a hug."

"No," she spat, "No! Because if I do you'll just leave!"

"Baby, please-"

"No!" She pulled away from me abruptly, kicking her fathers suitcase, knocking it over, "No! I won't let you leave! You can't!"

Without further word, she ran upstairs into her bedroom, slamming the door closed. Billie Joe stared at the suitcase in shock, sniffling. He looked up at me, his eyes glistening with un-shed tears, his bottom lip quivering. I walked over to him slowly, wrapping my arms around his fragile body. "I feel like such a dick," he admitted after a long moment of hugging each other.

"Don't. She's five, Billie. Of course she's going to hate when you leave."

"I wish I could just cancel this whole fucking tour."

"But you can't, baby. And she'll get used to it. It's just hard."

"I wish I could fucking quit this," he grumbled into my neck, "For once I wish I wasn't me."

I pulled away from another embrace, looking into his eyes, watching a few tears leak down his cheeks.

"Don't. You're an amazing man, and an amazing father. She knows you'll miss her, and she knows you'll return. She knows what you do, and that you would eventually have to go away. It's just the goodbye that's hard."

"You're not kidding. It was never this hard with Joey and Jakob."

"They weren't five year old girls. Girls tend to be more emotional than boys."

Billie Joe smiled softly, sniffling as I wiped the tears from his eyes. "Maybe I should postpone the tour. Wait for a while-"

"Don't. That'll only make it harder to leave."

He sighed sadly, his bottom lip quivering once again. "It's never been so goddamn hard to leave."

"It'll get easier," I whispered, kissing his cheek.

Billie Joe shook his head, hugging me over again. "This'll never be easy. It'll never be easy to leave my family."

***

Billie Joe wrapped his arms around my waist, burying his head in my neck, taking me by surprise. We both sat there for a moment, not a word uttered before I decided to break the silence, feeling his knee starting to dig into my stomach. "Billie, you're crushing me, no offence."

He lifted his head from my neck, shifting the way he sat on me so he wasn't putting as much weight on my body. "Sorry," he mumbled, kissing me softly and quickly.

I smiled softly, threading my hands through his hair as he rested his head back on my chest, sighing deeply. "What's up?" I asked softly.

"Mike called," he grumbled in a low voice.

"Oh? Since when has that been a bad thing?"

"Since I've written didlie-squat. Since all I've wanted to do is be home with you and Sydney."

"So tell them that," I said, "Tell them that you want to spend time with your family. They should understand that. Tre used that excuse for him and Rachel last album for about a month."

"Yeah, but they get all fucking pissy with me, telling me that I always use that fucking insult, and that I can't just completely abandon my career to be a goddamn anti-social asshole."

"They've said that?"

"Yeah...just with, you know, not as much swearing."

I giggled, kissing his forehead softly, resting my hand on the back of his neck. "So just go for a few hours and if they give you shit, tell them to stuff it."

He sighed and kissed me once again, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Could you think of any excuse to stop me from going?"

"Sydney's delirious?"

Billie Joe laughed half heartedly, playing with my hair, his lips pursed. "I guess I'll have to go...but fuck...I don't want to."

"So like I said, go for a while. I mean, there's not much you can do if you've got nothing written."

"And they don't under-fucking-stand that. It get's me so mad." I kissed his temple, feeling bad for him. He groaned, standing up abruptly, catching me off guard. "I better just go," he insisted after a moment, "Get them to shut the fuck up and come home."

I shrugged slowly, standing up also, his arms traveling around my body once again, pulling me against him. He pressed his lips against my own softly before disappearing out of the room, going to change from boxers and a t-shirt to shorts. With a simple good-bye he exited the house, the door slamming shut behind him.

***

"I won't be home for dinner."

I arched an eyebrow slowly, "Oh. Okay. Why?"

"Mike and Tre. We'll probably go and get something to eat."

"Oh. Okay, sounds good." There was a silence in the conversation for a moment before Billie Joe coughed, repeating what he had just said earlier. "So where are Mike and Tre?" I asked slowly.

"Inside. I'm having a cigarette. I think it's more emotionally draining for me to be all fucking peachy with them rather than fighting."

I giggled, "I don't think that's true."

"Mmm...it is. They're so," he paused, taking a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly, "Meh...I can't think of the word. But you know what I mean, right babe?"

"I think so."

"Yeah," he breathed out, "Yeah, whichever word you're thinking is probably right."

"Mhm. So where are you going with the guys?"

"I don't know...probably some fast food place knowing us. We live on that shit."

"Apparently you've never watched Super-size Me."

"And ruin my fast-food love? I'll pass."

"You watch. You keep eating your Big Mac instead of something healthy and you'll turn into a balloon."

"Would you still have sex with me?"

"Sweetheart, you wouldn't even be able to find your dick."

"I'd be fat, not stupid."

"Yes, but to find something you'd have to see it."

"That's not true," he protested, "Look at blind people. Do blind people have sex?"

I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at it oddly as if it were Billie Joe himself. "Billie...I don't know. Ask one."

"I bet they do. I bet it's not that hard. I mean, if old people can have sex...I heard that if you can walk up a flight of stairs you can have sex."

"That was in a movie."

"Yeah. So anyone who can walk up stairs can have sex?"

"I guess so..." I said slowly.

"But what if I have no legs?"

"Billie," I sighed rolling my eyes at him, "Are you smoking a cigarette or a joint?"

Billie Joe chuckled, cradling the cellphone against his ear. "Cigarette, baby. I bet old people have boring sex-"

"Billie, I don't want to think of old people having sex, thank you so very much."

"-They'd probably break their hip if they rode each other."

"Billie!"

Billie Joe started laughing for a moment before coughing, calming down. "Okay, I'm sorry. Sending images into your head of your grandparents having sex is wrong."

I shuddered, curling up more on the love seat, "You're such a disturbing man."

"You married me."

"Sure. You were sweet back then."

"I'm still sweet. I'm like candy."

"Oh, is that what you call it?"

"Yeah baby. Eye candy. I'm just waiting for your sugar-rush."

"Billie?"

"Yeah?"

I just laughed, shaking my head, not knowing how to respond to what he had said.

***

The strong smell of alcohol is what took me from my slumber at only god knows what time. I lifted my head slowly from the armrest of the loveseat that I had fallen asleep on whilst waiting for Billie Joe earlier that night, only for my eyes to meet a full head of dark hair. "Billie?" I croaked, rubbing my eyes.

The figure next to me only groaned and shifted around on the small couch. An arm slowly traveled over my stomach and started playing with the waist-line to my sweat pants "Billie Joe?" I asked once again, the smell of alcohol stronger now.

"Mhferhem."

I sighed as I sat up, prodding the lump next to me only to get another groan. "Did you just get home?" I asked with a yawn.

"Yesh..."

"Oh. Is that you that smells?"

"You schmell niche, too."

"I wasn't meaning nice, Bill. I meant- are you drunk?"

"Naw."

I arched an eyebrow slowly; trying to see the man that lay next to me although it was impossible because of the lack of light. "How did you get home?"

"Cab."

"Oh." The room fell silent for a moment except for the rustle of clothing as the drunken man shuffled around next to me. "I thought you were going out with the guys," I pressed.

"Yesh."

"Did you?"

"What?"

I groaned to myself, wondering if I should just give up with him for the night and let him sleep. "Billie," I grumbled, "Billie, you really smell."

"Shorry."

At least he's not being a complete jerk.

Billie Joe's hand slowly snaked over my body; pulling me close to him so he could bury his head into my neck. And for the rest of the night not another word was spoken.

**


"Can you help me get mom upstairs?"

I arched an eyebrow slowly, turning away from the computer screen, closing all my IM windows. "What?" I asked, looking at Adam oddly, "Why?"

"She can't walk."

"...Why?"

"She's drunk, and getting her over to the damn stairs took about fifteen minutes alone."

"Oh." I stood up, following my brother out of my room, my hand gently gliding down the banister as I went to meet Adam downstairs.

"Okay," he said, "I pick up this side of her and you, you pick up that one."

I looked down at her disgustedly, before back up at him, nodding. "Okay."

We both looked at each other, hesitating before picking her up, slowly carrying her upstairs, not wanting to drop her. Actually, I didn't really care if I dropped her. She wouldn't notice. She probably wasn't even conscious.

Adam pushed open her and my fathers bedroom door, both of us practically crawling over to the bed with her in our arms, dumping her onto it. I looked over to him, feeling his arm drop around my shoulders, both of us backing out of the dark bedroom, entering mine. I went over and sat down at my computer desk, spinning around idly in my chair as he sat on my bed. "I can't wait to get out of here," I stated after a moment.

"Mand, you've only just turned eighteen."

"Which means I can leave whenever I please. God knows they'll kick me out sometime."

"They haven't kicked me out."

"But don't you wish they had?"

Adam chuckled, folding his arms in back of his head, making himself comfortable on my bed causing me to roll my eyes. "You'll be out soon enough, sis. You'll graduate soon, and then you'll find yourself looking for a house. Then you'll find yourself getting married, and then having kids."

I laughed softly, shrugging. "I don't care what or where I go. I just want to get away from here. Get away from drunks."

**

"Why does dad look dead?"

I looked up from the counter I had been staring at for the past ten minutes and over to Sydney who was entering the kitchen, ready for school. I laughed softly, running a hand through my hair. "He's not feeling too well."

"I figured as much."

Sydney laughed as she pushed a pop-tart into the toaster; disappearing out of the room going to find her backpack, sniggering at her father on the way by. I stepped into the lounge slowly, watching the older man sleep, his chest gently rising and falling slowly whilst his mouth hung open, a small line of drool crawling down the side of it. His hand twitched from the dream he was having as he made a small groan. Such an innocent look for such an un-innocent man.

And it was a few hours later when Billie Joe started to come to his senses, still sprawled out all over the love seat that had become slightly smaller than he could cope with. He groaned slowly, moving his head to the side, feeling something wet against his neck. The older man felt a smile flicker onto his lips as he tilted his head back slowly; figuring it was a wake up call from his wife. "Mmm," he hummed, ignoring the jolts of pain from his hangover, "Mmm...hi to you, too."

Billie Joe grinned, his eyes still closed as he felt the neck of his t-shirt being pulled down, weight being applied there as the what he assumed to be kisses slowly traced up his neck and onto his face. He lifted his hands slowly, going to wrap them around the body that was on top of him, only to get hands full of fur.

Almost immediately the rockstars eye's snapped open his eyes meeting dark brown ones. His eyes widened before he screamed, jumping up from the love seat, sending the small dog on top of him flying onto it. "God damnit, Charlie," he breathed out, grabbing fistfuls of his own dark hair, ignoring the headache that had already started.

The small dog seemed to smile, and probably would have if he really could as he looked up at Billie Joe. His small tail wagged for a moment before he stood up, barking up at the older man who stood before him. "Shut the fuck up," Billie Joe grunted, waving a hand infront of Charlie's face, "I've already had enough of you this morning. Go to bed."

Charlie just continued to look up at his owner who sat back down next to him; rubbing his head delicately, feeling his headache worsen. He looked over at the small dog, shaking his head slowly. "Woulda been nice if you were Joe at the moment," he paused, laughing bitterly to himself, "I bet you ten bucks she's pissed at me for being a jerk last night and waking her up or something." With that said he leant back on the love seat, resting his hand over his eyes whilst closing them slowly. And it stayed like that for a moment before a wave of nausea hit him; causing him to jump up and stumble through the house until he came to one of the bathrooms, storming into it and collapsing at the toilet.

Billie Joe nearly jumped out of his own skin when he felt a hand place it's self on his back. He wiped the gunk from the side of his mouth; a disgusted look on his face as he flushed the toilet even though he knew he wasn't finished yet, and that it was only the beginning of the morning from hell. After a moment he looked over his shoulder at me, a small smile appearing on his thin lips. "Hi," he croaked.

"Hi," I murmured, rubbing his back gently.

"I fucking- I fucking suck at holding my liquor."

"I gathered that," I said softly as I leant forward; kissing his color drained cheek.

I pulled myself away from Billie Joe going to get the bottle of aspirin while he groaned and pushed his body against the wall; placing his head in his hands. "I feel like shit."

"I imagine so."

He looked up at me slightly nervously as he continued to nurse his head. "I love you," he admitted after a long moment of silence.

"I love you too, Billie."

Billie Joe opened his mouth going to speak; only to lurch forward, barely making it as he threw up last night's dinner. And as he mentally kicked himself in the head multiple times, he managed to remind himself that the apologizes would have to wait til' later.