Worry Rock

Billie Joe smiled as he stepped on the patio where the few sun chairs were laid out along the pool. I looked up from the magazine I had been fully involved in, soaking in the last of the sun that was shining that day. “You went swimming?” He asked as he walked over to where I sat.

He climbed into the chair behind me, propping me up somewhat so that he could fit. I sat in-between both of his legs now, my back pressed against his chest as he looked over my shoulder at the magazine. I smiled to myself as I closed it, keeping a finger inside to save the page as I looked up at him and then back down at my body.

I had been sitting out in the sun with a camisole and pair of shorts on, completely dry. I chuckled. “In a pair of shorts and a tank top?”

Billie Joe blushed slightly and shrugged. “I don’t know. You tend to like water in full-clothing.”

I scowled. “No. You just like to push me in.”

Billie Joe laughed while grinning, a mischievous glint in his eyes. I whacked his arm as if to tell him to not get any ideas and then went back to my magazine, pushing my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose. I used Billie Joe’s body as my pillow now instead of the folded towel I had originally used, finding his body much more comfortable. “Why are you out here?” He asked after a moment.

I smiled to myself. “I’m soaking up the last sun of the season I can get.”

“Why?” He asked slowly. “To be tan? I thought you only burnt.”

“I do,” I admitted. I was Irish. I was the typical Irish girl that no, I didn’t have red hair, but I was pretty lightly colored when it came to skin and I had always had trouble tanning. I always came back burnt. “However, I’m trying to be tan. It’d be nice to look like I actually live in California once in a while.”

Billie Joe chuckled as he pulled me closer to his body, wrapping his arms around my waist. He pushed his face into my neck and kissed it softly. “I like your skin, whitey.”

“I look like I’ve been hiding in a closet my whole life.”

Billie Joe grinned as he took my hand in his and turned it over so that my palm was facing up. “That’s your original skin color,” he pointed out. I nodded. He turned my hand back over to see the top if my hand and arm. “See, you’re darker.”

I laughed at the fairly darker colored skin that Billie Joe was pointing out to me. “Barely.” I took his hand in mine and lifted it up, doing just what he had done to me. “You’re tan,” I stated.

“I’m not as Irish as you are.”

Billie Joe sat forward more, wrapping his legs with his arms now around my waist while he pressed his chest to my back. “Mm, that’s right.” I hummed lightly in agreement. “You’re a rude, loud and obnoxious Italian. Just like my grandmother’s second husband.”

“And you’re a leprechaun.”

I gasped and wriggled around in his grip to whack his arm while he snorted with laughter at me. “I am not!”

“Oh please. You’re short and Irish. If you had red hair you’d be perfect.”

I scowled and continued to hit my husband’s arm thought it had almost no effect on him. “You are so damn lucky that I love you,” I spat at him.

Billie Joe grinned widely, wrapping his arms and legs around me tighter. “I know,” he stated simply. He pressed his lips against mine swiftly, the stale taste of cigarettes flooding my senses. “Our poor child. Italian and Irish.”

“I’m more of a mutt, to be honest.” Billie Joe laughed as he pressed his lips to mine again. I pulled away after a short moment. “You taste like an ash tray, Bill.”

Billie Joe winced. “Sorry,” he apologized, “I forgot to get mints when I went to the gas station.”

“You would save a lot of money if you would just quit.”

Billie Joe sighed softly and sat back away from me for a moment to pull off his t-shirt. He threw it carelessly away from him, not bothering to see if it landed on the patio or the pool.

Of course, it landed in the pool, completely unnoticed by my husband.

“I’ve been trying,” he admitted. “But the patches don’t work. I go through a box of Nicorette within two days,” he shrugged slowly, “I’m trying. Just give me some time. The only reason I’m quitting is for you.”

A part of me wanted to be stubborn and just nod slightly, but instead I smiled and pressed my lips back against his, though instead of letting him pull me into anything even slightly deep, I pulled away. Billie Joe’s lips followed my own, determined to not just let me pull away. He groaned in protest as I slid out from between his legs, our lips finally disconnecting. I smiled mockingly at him. “You lied to me,” he stated.

I cocked an eyebrow. “What? When?”

“Last night. I came home at ten and you were watching tv. Sydney was in bed and you said no to me then and that you promised we could when I got home from the studio today.” My eyes widened for a brief moment before I whacked him. He gasped and pushed me lightly and then went to rub his arm. “What was that for?”

“You can’t remember that we’ve been married for thirteen years but you can remember when I tell you that you’re going to get laid?”

Billie Joe giggled and pulled me back against him, grinning from ear to ear. He turned us around so that he now had his back to the pool while facing me and pushed me down, quickly climbing over me before I could get away. Billie Joe sat down on my waist, straddling me as he looked down at me with bright eyes. “I just want to participate in activities with my lovely wife now that I’m home early today.”

I opened my mouth to speak back to him but closed it fast as he shifted on top of me so that he was lying down partly on top of me. “Why are you home early?” I asked slowly.

I closed my eyes for a moment and then opened them again meanwhile Billie Joe continued to shift in the chair next to me so that he could wrap his arms around my waist. His lips brushed my ear gently as a short silence came between us. “I just got tired of being there so I came home.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Mike and Tre let you?”

Billie Joe chuckled. “No.” He hesitated for a moment and then slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “I’ve got it on silent.”

He handed the small phone to me and lay back, though his legs moved so that they sat on either side of me just not wrapped around my waist. One of his tattooed arms was covering his eyes, due to the lack of sunglasses he had at the moment.

I got up from in-between my husbands legs and moved next to him on the lawn chair. I placed a hand over his tattooed chest, outlining a tattoo of a green heart on the bottom of his neck that he had gotten within the past five years. The color green in it standing for my maiden name.

When Billie Joe and I had first gotten married, he always told me how much he loved my former last name due to the fact that it was so easy to get a tattoo that had something to do with me, due to the fact that it was a color. He was able to do almost anything with it, the green heart on the bottom of his neck being a perfect example.

There was another green heart, identical to the one on his neck on one of his fingers and on his hip where 80 had used to be, adding up to three hearts – the same amount of people in the family we had made together. During the part of the tours that Sydney and I couldn’t join him because Sydney had school and I had work , Mike and Tre would tell me that he would wear green almost every day, and it didn’t have to do with the fact that the band’s name was Green Day.

I flipped open the small phone in my hand and looked down at the screen.

17 Missed Calls

6 New Voicemails

I chuckled and looked up from the phone to my laid back husband. “What’s up?” he asked.

“How many of the six voicemails you’ve got do you think are Mike?”

“Five and a half.”

I laughed. “And a half?”

“Tre probably called the last time, and more than likely you’ll be able to hear Mike in the background.”

I smirked to myself as I leant back against his bare torso, my body sitting sideways on the chair as I pressed the phone to my ear hesitantly. Billie Joe watched as I instantly cringed at the first message. He sighed softly and sat up, gently sliding the phone from my hands and pressed it against his ear for about a second before snapping it shut. “See,” he told me softly.

“I really don’t know how you all call each other best friends,” I mumbled.

Billie Joe smiled. “It’s a hate-love relationship.”

I laughed and went to speak, however Billie Joe cut me off wanting to change the conversation. “Sydney’s birthday,” he started slowly, “isn’t it coming up soon?”

I rolled my eyes. “What is it with the male population and sucking at remembering any kind of date?”

Billie Joe giggled. “I remember important dates.”

“Like what?”

“I remember yours and my own birthday.”

I rolled my eyes again. “That’s only because you get laid on both of them.” I paused. “Why don’t you remember our anniversary? That’s when you beg for the most sex?”

Billie Joe shook his head. “No, that’s my birthday. Our anniversary is a close second, though.” He shrugged. “Then Christmas, then your birthday.”

I stared at my husband in disgust for a moment. “You’re pathetic.”

My husband grinned widely. “And you promised me something today.”

I whacked his arm. “You’re not even supposed to be home right now.”

Billie Joe continued to grin as he slowly but surely pulled me onto his body and laid back on the chair while looking up at me, the sun turning my face into a silhouette. “I don’t think that matters. A promise is a promise.”

I laughed softly. “Fine. But you’re going to have to earn it.”

Billie Joe groaned loudly. “I spent a day at the studio with Mike and Tre. Doesn’t that earn me something?”

“No,” I said with a fake smile, in which he only scowled at. “In order to get laid, you have to tell me the date of Sydney’s birthday and our anniversary.” He groaned even louder. “Oh please,” I muttered. “Remembering your daughter’s birthday and anniversary with the woman you’re begging to have sex with can’t be that hard.” I sighed softly. “Besides, they’re not far away from each other.”

Billie Joe continued to groan loudly while covering his eyes with his hands. “Alright, alright. Let me think.” We both sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds surrounding us being the normal sounds of our neighborhood. Billie Joe sighed deeply. “Alright, Sydney’s is…” he hesitated. One of his eyes closed slowly and his nose wrinkled as he tried to think harder. “Sydney’s is.” He paused and grinned. “August third.”

I grinned up at him, our expressions mirroring each others. I shifted upwards and pressed my lips to his. “Good. Now when’s our anniversary?” Billie Joe groaned again. He sighed, closing his eyes. I giggled as I pressed my lips to his again, gently biting down on his bottom lip and tugging on it lightly. “Go on, it’s not that hard.”

“The…twenty third?” He squeaked slowly, as if this had been painful. I grinned as I pushed myself off of his body, the air replacing it not being nearly as warm, causing him to gasp lightly. “What?” He asked slowly. “Was I right?”

“You guessed,” I stated simply.

Billie Joe’s eyes lit up. “I was?”

“No.” He scowled. “It’s the twenty-seventh. Seven because it’s a lucky number and I’m superstitious. You know that.”

Billie Joe groaned to himself. “God damn. How did I forget that?”

“You’re a stupid man, that’s how.”

Billie Joe scowled again. “Come on, though. I was close enough.”

“Four days off, that’s nearly a week.”

Billie Joe stood up and took a step towards me. I cocked an eyebrow and took a step back. He sighed. “Joe, come on,” he whined, “You promised.”

“No. I told you you’d get something if you got them right. You just happened to completely fail at remembering our anniversary. That’s your fault.”

“But I was close!” He called out desperately.

“Not close enough.”

He continued to groan as he followed me. “I love you,” he tried.

“I love you, too,” I said with a grin. “But you lost that one; fair and square.”

+++

Billie Joe slid into the kitchen, running his hands through his freshly showered hair, droplets of water dripping onto the tiled kitchen floor as he walked over to me. He stepped behind me as he had done before when we had been outside and wrapped his still wet tattooed arms around my waist, leaving wet stains on my sweater. I grinned and turned to kiss him lightly. “I love it when you take showers. It’s one of those few times a week that you smell good.”

Billie Joe laughed. “You should have taken a shower with me. Then we could both smell great together.”

“I already took one this morning after Sydney went to school and you were at the studio.”

“And you thought of me the whole time, didn’t you?”

“More like Matt Bellamy and Josh Hartnett, but you were a close third.”

My husband chuckled as he straddled the stool, pushing me off. I scowled at him until he pulled me onto his lap. “You mean, I’m actually in your top five now? Hot damn. I never thought that’d happen.”

I giggled on Billie Joe’s lap, then pulled myself off of it and onto the counter, turning around to face him and pulling him closer to me to wrap my legs around. “Yeah, well, after being married to you for thirteen years, I’ve started to realize that Rob Lowe, Michael Vartan and Gerard Way and I have no chance.”

Billie Joe cocked an eyebrow. “And Josh and Matt do?”

“Nah,” I said with a grin, “they’re just hot.”

The man in front of me pushed out his bottom lip. “And I’m not?”

I giggled again as I slid off the counter and onto his lap, pressing my lips to his. I pressed my lips to his softly, to his own while grinning the whole time. “You’re pretty fly for a white guy.”

Billie Joe grinned widely. “You’re so lucky I love you.”

I continued to giggle and kiss him, quick and simple but sweet and repetitive kisses. Billie Joe slid his hands to the back of my legs and lifted me up onto the counter, just as he had done the other day when I had gotten home from Travis’s. He planted his hands on either side of my body, his lips still covering my own with his eyes still closed. “I’m beginning to really like this counter,” I hissed lightly against his lips.

He chuckled. “I always knew it served for some purpose.” Billie Joe moved his hand, placing it on a sticky note on the island. He opened an eye slowly to look down at it and quirked an eyebrow. “Oh.”

I opened my eyes. “Oh? That’s usually not what I get out of you when you’re about to get laid.”

Billie Joe grinned and blushed as he picked up the small note. “No, no. I mean oh as in, I forgot to tell you something.”

I groaned. “You’re kidding me, right? You pick now to tell me something? Now, when you’re about to get what you’ve been begging for all day?” I rolled my eyes. “Your dick must hate you.”

“It does,” he agreed, “but this is important.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Well, what is it, then?”

“I—uh, called the doctor the other day and set up an appointment for Tuesday.”

“Why?” I asked slowly, swining my legs from the counter. “Does your back hurt again?” I hesitated. “Or are you having trouble breathing again?” I hopped off the counter and stood in front of him, wrapping my arms around his small frame. “And they didn’t take you in now? You could be in serious trouble--,”

“No, no it’s nothing like that. It’s for us. Like, you and me.”

I bit my bottom lip. “Why? Oh damnit, Billie. It’s not marriage counseling, is it? Just cause we argue doesn’t mean that we have problems. I told you, don’t listen to Rachel. She’s a natural blonde and can be a complete dumba--,”

For the third time, the older man cut me off. “No. I said doctor, not counselor.”

I folded my arms slowly. “Well, then, why?”

Billie Joe hesitated. “You do realize that I’m turning fifty soon, don’t you?”

I rolled my eyes. “No way. You’re kidding me, right?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “Jesus! I thought you were only like twenty-five!”

Billie Joe scowled. “That’s not funny. I’m turning fifty sooner than later. Much sooner than later. I can’t go for three or four years trying to have another baby. I’d like to be under fifty when having one so that when it’s ten I won’t be sixty.”

I was silent, my eyes wide as I stared down at the floor. Billie Joe watched me. I was laughing on the inside at this point. I really was. My mother must have died, because someone sure as hell hated me in heaven. Not that she’d be there to begin with. I was okay with this. I was fine. Billie Joe and I were living life perfectly normal. Or well, as normal as a rock star, wife and daughter can. I had completely looked past this damn pregnancy. I was over it. I was over it. Not him.

“You’re—you’re an asshole,” I squeaked out. “I told you I didn’t want to result in this! Going to a fucking hospital. I hate hospitals. I hate them. I fucking hate them, Billie Joe. I hate how they pick and they prod me until I’m in tears. God damnit, everyone knows that! I could call everyone in my phone book and they would all tell you that!” I thumped my hand against his chest in fury. “Even you know that! But you don’t care.” I groaned.

Billie Joe sighed. “Joe, just listen--,”

“Oh fuck you!” I spat out. “I have to listen to you explain to me why you set up a doctors appointment in which I told you I never wanted to encounter! How about you listen to me for once?!”

Billie Joe’s mouth dropped open. “It’s nothing--,”

“Ohh, no,” I scowled. “It’s definitely something.” He was silent. I continued to scowl and shook my head, pressing my hands to my temple. “Don’t talk to me right now.”

“Joe,” he murmured quietly.

I sighed softly as I fixed the strap to my bra in which had come undone when Billie Joe and I had been on the counter only a few minutes ago. “The best thing you could do right now is cancel that appointment.”

He hesitated. “Joe, I just want--,”

I sighed again to myself and shook my head. “No. I know exactly what you want. That’s come out clear as day by now.”