Worry Rock

“I’m only going to talk to you if you promise that you know and believe that you are the only woman in my life with the exception of Sydney.” I twiddled my thumbs, looking down at them as I felt Billie Joe’s eyes on me. When I didn’t say anything, Billie Joe became curious. “Joe?” he prodded. He bit his bottom lip, chewing on it. “Is this your way of telling me you don’t believe me?”

“I want you to prove to me that I’m the only woman in your life,” I stated, looking up at him.

Billie Joe shuffled forward, the chair underneath him creaking as he did so, shattering the silence in the home. “Look in my eyes,” he murmured, his voice soft, “and tell me that you believe that I am having an affair.”

“Look in my eyes and tell me you’re not,” I countered.

His hands were soft, different than the rough texture they had always held from years of playing the guitar, as he placed his pointer finger underneath my chin and tilted it upwards so that I was looking directly into his eyes. “I am not cheating on you, in any way,” he said softly, “shape, or form. I promise.”

I hesitated for a moment and then leaned upwards to close the gap between our lips, firmly connecting my own with his. His lips, although still connected with mine were pulled upwards into a smile as he wrapped a tattooed arm around my back, the other one picking me up as he carried, stumbling, over to the couch. He pushed me down onto it, crawling over me, both of us taking up the full capacity of the couch. His lips connected with my own, making the kiss we shared last night feel like only a small peck as we both became furious to remove each others clothing, giving the word talk a whole new meaning.

***

His hair was matted down, the front of it sticking to his forehead as his chest heaved up and down, his eyes still dark with lust although they were closed as he sucked in another long breath. “I love it when we talk,” he murmured, bringing up the duvet around us. “Or well, when we do this kind of talking. No that I don’t like to you, you know--,” he closed his mouth, grinning at himself and how stupid he sounded trying to explain what he was thinking when he couldn’t even grasp his own thoughts.

I rolled my eyes at my husband as I curled up against his body, the warmth from his body shooting through my own. He got the message and shut his mouth, starting to let his body calm down from the climax that he had just reached. I closed my eyes, my finger tracing an imaginary circle on his chest as he ran a hand through my hair.

My eyes opened slowly again as I felt his lips softly touch my forehead, causing me to smile. The older man sighed, leaning back on the bed. “I don’t deserve you.”

I closed my eyes once again. I knew that was coming.

There was some problem with Billie Joe and that. After almost every argument, fight, anything wrong with us he became his own worst enemy. Not in an abusive or crazy way, just by telling himself that he didn’t deserve me. It bothered the hell out of me to hear the man put himself down like that.

He blamed it on how he grew up, without his father and how when things were wrong in the Armstrong household it was always his fault. I blamed it on his own insecurity and possibly the amount of drugs he had done throughout his adolescent years. He didn’t bother to deny that.

I lifted my body over and on top of his, pulling part of the duvet against my chest to keep my dignity [although I didn’t have much left in bed like this after years of being with this man]. “Billie,” I murmured, his eyes lifting to meet my own.

He sighed. “I know,” he mumbled, “Billie, don’t put yourself down about this. I forgive you and things will move on,” he mimicked. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true. If you didn’t so called deserve me, the small girl from Connecticut that you rescued from her scary parents when she was just a young brat, then I wouldn’t be on top of you right now, with nothing on but my wedding ring that you put on me.”

Billie Joe smiled up at me, lifting a hand from under the covers to run against my back as I folded my arms on his chest, resting my head on them so that I was level with his chin. I leant forward to kiss it sweetly causing him to tilt his head back. “You act as if I’m so much better than you,” I said softly.

“You are,” he replied weakly.

I snorted. “How do you figure that?”

“You are so much better of a person than I am. I feel like such an asshole compared to you. You’re the kind of person that when something bad happens you try to work it out, make it better. I go get drunk and then fuck it up some more.”

“That’s not true,” I snapped. “And you damn well know it.”

“No I don’t,” he moaned, tilting his head back. “Your birthday is the perfect example. You found out I have been lying to you, okay? Strike fucking one. You try to make it better by not saying anything and then trying to talk to me about it. Instead I yelled at you and then walked out while you were crying. I am a bad person.”

“You’re not a bad person,” I insisted. “You messed up. We all mess up.”

“You mean you’ve been lying to me for the past three months and on my next birthday or our anniversary you plan to yell at me and walk out?”

“No,” I murmured. “Billie,” I tried softly. “You are a rock star. Nothing you do is ever simple, no matter if it’s a mess up or something amazing. You and I can be compared as much as apples and oranges, darling. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, I’m just saying that we are two different people and that’s what makes us a good couple,” I told him, making sure that my eyes connected with his. “If we were the same and we did the same things, darling, we’d hate each other. Personality’s crash. You need me for your simplicity and I need you for just about everything else.”

A silence overcame us as Billie Joe became lost in thought. “You deserve me,” I repeated. “Every bit of me. From here--,” I placed a hand on my head, “to hear--,” on my chest over my heart, “to even here.”

I took his hand under the duvet and guided it down to my thigh. Billie Joe grinned, sitting up more, pulling me with him. He kissed me softly, his lips moving from my own to flutter down the side of my neck and then to my collarbone. “Joe?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

***

I crossed my legs and pulled down my shirt as Billie Joe sat down next to me. He hesitated and then slowly wrapped an arm sweetly around my back, his eyes like liquid as he pulled me close to him. “I don’t know where to start without making you think I’m a total ass.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” I said with a playful smile. “We already had tons of sex today and I’ve always thought you were an ass.”

Billie Joe chuckled and shook his head. “I…never wanted to lie to you, Joe.”

I relaxed more in his arms. “I know,” I said quietly.

“I was having so much trouble in the studio with the guys. We were all fighting, and I felt so ganged up on. So of course, there was no better way to drown out all the problems than to go to the bar and drink. I called you to tell you I was going to go, by myself, but as soon as I heard you and you asked me where I was and if I was coming home I couldn’t. I didn’t want to disappoint you, not that lying is any better. But I lied to make it seem like it wasn’t my fault I was going to drink so that you would know that I still wanted to be home. You wouldn’t be disappointed in me then.” He was quiet for a moment, his grip on me becoming tighter. “And it was just so easy because you believed me. I didn’t even bother considering telling you the truth after a while, it became so effortless to tell you the guys and I were going out. You didn’t know that we basically hated each other. You thought they were dropping me off every night and that I was having a good time with the guys.”

“So how did you get home?” I asked softly.

“Cab,” he answered simply. “I started to get scared because I thought you knew that morning when you were hesitant to talk to me back in March. I thought you were up and you saw me getting out of a cab, that’s why I was so concerned if you were mad at me. I thought you knew. But you didn’t, and I’m so sorry. It all started off with me not wanting to disappoint you to end up with me only doing so – only so much worse. And I’m sorry that I ruined your trust in me. I hate myself for it,” he admitted. “I would never want to hurt you even half as much as I did. And trust me, I feel like a complete dick for it.” He paused, another thought entering his mind. I looked up at him in curiosity. “Joe,” he murmured, “you do believe me when I tell you that I never went with another woman, don’t you?”

I nodded slowly, biting my lip. “I do,” I said softly.

“Promise me,” he pleaded. “Promise me that despite all this shit I caused you can still look at me and know I am a faithful man that fucked up, but loves his wife and his daughter more than life itself, and I would never do anything in the means of having sex with another woman to ruin anything.” He paused once again. “Joe,” he whispered, “Joe, I would kill myself if I woke up in a bed with another woman.”

“Don’t say that,” I said, having to slightly force a smile.

“It’s true,” he insisted.

I pushed my body forward to kiss him sweetly. “Don’t you feel better telling me the truth?” I asked. “Or are you a truly twisted creep?”

Billie Joe laughed and kissed me back, pulling away only inches to answer me. “I am a twisted creep, baby, but it feels so much better.”

“Good,” I murmured. “It should.”

The older man looked over at me and smiled, his grip becoming less tight yet more affectionate. His lips placed themselves on my neck and I grinned, closing my eyes slowly. He softly kissed up and down my neck and then pulled away, only to return a few seconds later, gently meeting my own. He tilted his head forward to rest his forehead against my own. “Joe?” he asked his voice raspy.

“Hmm?” I hummed softly as I rubbed my nose against his.

Billie Joe smiled, the mood in the room changing from playful to affectionate in almost no time. The man’s grip tightened on me a little bit as he lifted my body as much as he could and pulled me over onto his lap where I curled up. “Tell me you love me,” he requested.

I smiled, lifting my head up to kiss the bottom of his chin, my lips brushing his stubble. “Now what do you think?” I murmured my voice soft. “I love you.”

Billie Joe grinned widely, pressing his lips against mine, his tongue running against my bottom lip. He bit it lightly, pulling on it somewhat, his hands crawling around my body. The slightly aged man pulled away, his lips hesitant to leave my own. His eyes twinkled, darkened from lust. My eyes darted away from his for a second and flickered onto the digital clock, letting me know that it was only after one. After everything we had done today, it was still only after one.



Travis was a smart guy, which was pretty obvious. I had known that from day one, really, although he had been high on caffeine. Although I knew how intelligent the man was, I didn’t expect him to know so much. “So do you forgive him?”

I glanced up at the attractive thirty-eight year old for a moment, arching an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, taking a bite from an apple and chewing slowly before continuing. “Your husband, sweetie. I’m more intelligent than I think you give me credit for. I heard you two.” He lifted a hand to tap his forehead. “I figured out what was going on so I went back to sleep. It’s hard to sleep though, I must admit, when you two are yelling at each other.”

I blushed. “I was angry with him.”

“I’m not sayin’ that you’re wrong to be, I’m just asking if things are peachy.”

I laughed. “Who says peachy anymore?”

“Apparently I,” he scoffed playfully.

I laughed and walked over to sit next to him on a different stool. I rested my head on the cool marble surface and drew imaginary lines among his hands. “You have soft hands,” I admitted.

Travis chuckled. “Thanks…I think.” I smiled and lifted my head to kiss his cheek. “Is Billie coming home?” he asked after a moment of silence.

I hesitated and then nodded. “He said he would.”

Travis nodded, his eyes not meeting mine. “I guess I should let you two be then?” he murmured.

“No,” I interrupted. “No, Travis, please don’t leave.”

“I don’t want to be here when he gets here, though,” Travis admitted. “It’d be awkward, and the last thing you two need is for an awkward situation.”

“It won’t be…please, I’m begging you.”

Travis arched an eyebrow, watching me for a moment before sighing and leaning in to kiss my cheek. “If he’s not here within an hour call me, okay?”

I just stared at him for a moment, ready to plead with him more to stay with me and not to leave, but he was right. If and when Billie Joe showed up, if Travis was here – needless to say it’d be awkward, especially when I was convinced that the only reason my husband had left the night before was because of Travis.

I nodded slowly; placing my chin in the palm of my hand as Travis kissed my cheek once again, gently picking up his jacket. “I promise, hon, if he’s not home within an hour you call me and I’ll be back, alright?”

I nodded once again and lead Travis to the door, saying goodbye.

Billie Joe arrived within fifteen minutes.

*

Billie Joe and I lay comfortably on the large bed, both of us naked underneath the covers in the spooning position. His hand rested lightly on my leg, his head sharing my pillow with me. His lips were soft and warm as he placed kisses on my shoulder, both of our eyes closed. It was only 1:30 and we were both tired, exhausted rather. I turned to face him, smiling as he looked up at me. He chuckled. “I honestly thought you were asleep.”

I shook my head, smiling slightly. “Nope.”

The rock star smiled and then pulled himself off of me, clutching the duvet as he leant over off the bed to the dresser closest to him. He pulled out a thin box that was attempted to be wrapped in silver paper. He closed the drawer and the lay back next to me, holding it in front of him. “I’m sorry about the shitty wrapping,” he said with a sheepish smile, “I tried. But…y’know, I’m truly terrible at it.”

I laughed and pushed my lips softly against his cheek, taking the poorly wrapped box out of his hands. “You know I hate it when people get me things for my birthday.”

“No you don’t,” Billie Joe countered with a smile. “You always tell people that you hate getting things for your birthday, but hon, every woman does the same thing and you know you want something. Adrienne was the same way, but neither of you have ever turned down a gift.”

I blushed, causing Billie Joe to chuckle. “I still say you shouldn’t have. You do enough for me.”

Billie Joe rolled his eyes. “I don’t do nearly enough for you. And it’s nothing, really.”

I rolled my eyes mockingly back at him, causing him to scoff, which made me giggle. I hesitated. “When did you get this?”

My husband arched an eyebrow. “’Excuse me?”

I thought for a moment, looking down. “I don’t want this to be a gift out of guilt.”

“It’s not,” Billie Joe said softly. “I got it three days before your birthday, it’s been in the drawer ever since.”

I studied his face for a moment, knowing damn well I would never be able to tell if he was lying to me or not again. But I just nodded instead of interrogating him, believing that if he truly meant that he was sorry to me that he would be telling the truth and the gift would not have been out of guilt. “Alright. You promise?”

His promises meant very little to me at the moment, but it was a habit to ask.

“I promise,” he said softly, knowing the same as me with his promises. I nodded, causing Billie Joe to grin. “And do you believe me?”

“For now.”

The older man pushed his lips against mine, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to rid himself of that over-whelming feeling. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders slowly before pulling away. “All I want is for you to trust me,” he admitted, his voice so soft.

“It’ll happen someday,” I replied, looking at him from the top of my eyes. Part of me didn’t want to unwrap it just because I found it adorable that he had put effort into wrapping it and it still came out as a mess. It almost as if he was the perfect example as to why people say that men can’t do a damn thing on their own.

I slid my nail underneath the wrapping and pulled one out of about a thousand pieces of tape off, – I’m pretty sure every man was guilty of that – and as soon as I got one side open, I tilted the box upward so that it slid out of the open end as Billie Joe looked away, blushing. I giggled and leant closer to kiss his cheek. “It wouldn’t stay on,” he mumbled as an excuse.

I just laughed again.

I slowly pulled the top off of the silver box, my fingers gently moving the white fabric out of the way to see a stunning silver necklace in the box. My bottom lip started to tremble slightly as I looked up at him, pulling the delicate piece of jewelry out of the box. He smiled shyly. “I really didn’t know what to get you,” he admitted. “The guy there wanted me to get out, I think.”

I laughed softly, wrapping an arm around his neck. “It’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful necklace for a beautiful woman.”

I chuckled at the oh-so cheesy and familiar line. We kissed one last time, the pain slowly subsiding slightly from the painful lies. Billie Joe smiled softly as I asked him to help me put it on despite the fact that we were in bed.

Everything Billie Joe had been hiding to me over the past months was like an open wound. At that moment and time, that wound was starting, just starting to become a scab -- to heal. In time an open wound would heal more, and in time everything would be eventually alright.

That is, if reality went as planned.