Worry Rock

Travis hesitated and picked up the phone. He pressed it to his ear to listen to the dial tone, his thoughts running rapidly through his head.

He knew he didn’t want to do this, but it was what was right to do.

Since when did you become fuckin’ Gandhi? He thought to himself.

Travis sighed loudly and took one last look back at the sleeping form in the guest bed before closing the door. He really didn’t want to do this, but he knew that despite the asshole that Billie Joe Armstrong was to him and his own wife, he loved her and he had to give him his wake up call. Literally.

There was static on the other side of the phone and a click signaling that someone had picked up. Travis groaned inwardly. He had been hoping that no one would have. “Hello?”

Travis cleared his throat. “Billie Joe?”

There was silence except for shuffling, in which Travis guessed was Billie Joe sitting up in bed. “Travis? Travis? What the fuck—do you know what time it is? My wife isn’t even here man. I don’t know where the fuck she is.”

Travis sighed again. “She’s currently sound asleep in one of the guest bedrooms in my home. That’s what I’m calling about.”

He heard Billie Joe yawn. “Why the hell are you calling me then if she’s with you? Isn’t this what you want?”

“No,” Travis admitted, “Well, yes. But no, not like this. You need to come pick her up, Billie.”

Billie Joe laughed. “Excuse me? Pick my wife up? Fuck that. Travis, it’s fucking--,”

“You’ve always wanted to prove to me that you’re a better man than I am. Personally, I think you’re the worst thing for her. For the first time I’m giving you the opportunity to prove me wrong.”

“Travis, I could fucking walk there on my hands and then carry her home and you’d still think shit of me. I’ve got nothing to prove to you.”

Travis laughed as he walked down the stairs and sat on the couch where he and I had been earlier. “No? How about proving that you actually love your wife.”

“I love my wife more than I love my whole damn life. I have nothing to prove to you.” Billie Joe sat up so that he was resting his back on the headboard of the bed. He pulled his legs up to his bare chest and rested his head on his knees while playing with the fabric to his boxers.

“Then prove to her that you love her instead of acting as if she’s dead. You haven’t once called her to see if she’s alive in the past three days that she’s been here. What if she was fuckin’ dead, Armstrong? How the fuck would you feel?”

“Don’t even joke,” Billie Joe hissed.

“I’m not joking,” Travis snapped. “I’m asking you a question.” He sighed. “Your wife needs you, Billie Joe.”

Billie Joe continued to curl up in the empty bed, the pain in his heart becoming stronger. “This isn’t easy for me either, Travis. You seem to think that I’m the cause of all of our problems. I’m amazed you haven’t convinced her to divorce me yet.”

Travis cocked an eyebrow as he scratched his neck. “I’m trying to be a good person,” he admitted. “And I know that I’m not the right one for your wife. I’m not calling you at two in the morning because I secretly think I am.”

“You wish you were.”

“Yes,” Travis admitted. “But I’m not.” He was silent for a moment and then scowled, not wanting to speak about this. He wasn’t going to tell Billie Joe that he loved his wife right now because Billie Joe didn’t want to get his ass out of bed and get his wife. “You are, so come get your wife.”

“No,” Billie Joe muttered. “You call me at two in the morning and expect me to come get my wife? Fuck that.”

Travis rolled his eyes. “Come get your wife, Billie Joe. And then talk to her. Stop acting like she’s dead.”

Billie Joe laughed humorlessly. “What happened, you got sick of her already?”

“No,” Travis hissed, “but what I am sick of is having to play fuckin’ match maker for the two of you, especially considering you’re the biggest arrogant asshole I’ve ever met.”

Billie Joe scoffed. “Admit it, Travis. You hate me because I’m married to the woman you have secretly loved for the past fifteen years of your life.”

“No,” Travis snarled. “There’s the difference between us, Billie Joe. I don’t hate you. I don’t like you, but you’re married to my best friend.”

Billie Joe chuckled and then slowly stopped. He sighed softly and ran a hand through his hair, biting his bottom lip as he sat curled up in the bed. “How is Joe?” He asked softly after a moment.

Travis rolled his eyes again. “If you’d come get her you’d see.”

“Can’t you just tell me how the fuck my wife has been? She ran away, Travis. I think I deserve to know.”

“She ran away?” Travis hissed. “No, she didn’t run away, Billie Joe. And you didn’t do much to stop her from leaving. If you really gave a damn you’d stop trying to get me to tell you I love her and hate you, you’d be over here right now.” When Travis decided Billie Joe wasn’t going to respond, he groaned. “She fucking misses you, goddamnit. Why else do you think I called? She won’t admit it, but it’s obvious. You’re her husband, Billie. She misses you. And let me guess, you don’t miss her at all.”

Billie Joe placed his head in his hand and dragged it down his face. “Of course I miss her. She’s my wife. But she lied to me.”

“You’ve lied to her, too, remember?” Travis pressed, “Her birthday? And you and I both know that probably isn’t the first or last time.”

Billie Joe snarled loudly into the phone. “I made a mistake when I went out drinking. I do not lie to my wife. She is my fucking wife. Don’t you dare act as if you know us better than we do.”

Travis chuckled to himself. “And for a while I thought we were going to get along here.”

Billie Joe continued to snarl at the younger man. “Maybe once you fall out of love with my wife--,”

“Maybe once you act as if you actually give a damn about your wife--,”

“Shut the fuck up!” Billie Joe snapped. “I do care about my wife. Maybe, just maybe if you had the balls to find someone else and stop waiting for me to fuck up--,”

“That’s hardly the case,” Travis interrupted. “If I was waiting for you to fuck up, Armstrong, your wife would be your ex-wife and her and I would be happily married by now.”

“And you’re suggesting that we aren’t?”

“I’m suggesting that you come and pick up your wife. I’m suggesting that after you come and pick up your poor wife that seems to be dead to you, you bring her home and make sure to let her know that she is, in fact very alive to you. She made a mistake, Billie Joe, and you should know what it’s like to do so more than any of us. You’re the one with one wife already divorced, do you really want another?”

By this time, Billie Joe’s hands were tangled within his hair, pulling the locks in frustration. He wanted so desperately to prove Travis wrong and show him how amazing of a husband he was. He wanted so bad to fucking punch Travis in the goddamn mouth, multiple times. He wanted to punch something, and right now the pillow where his wife’s head usually was was the closes thing.

And so he did.

He punched the damn pillow as hard as he could, as many times as he could before even bothering to think of responding. God damn him, Billie Joe thought. God damn him.

When the forty-six year old placed the phone back against his ear, his breathing was ragged and it was apparent to Travis that he had gotten to the older man. It was exactly what he wanted. “Will you come and get her now?” Travis asked.

“No, no. Fuck you. Fuck you. Don’t you think is about time for you to stop playing fuckin’ doctor to my goddamn relationship? You’re not part of it, Travis.”

“Oh you know damn well I am,” Travis argued. “If it wasn’t for me telling your wife after ever argument that you two were made for each other, she probably wouldn’t go back to you all the time. If it wasn’t for me constantly reassuring her that you two are a great couple. I am sick of constantly having to do this to get nothing but shit from you. Come pick up your goddamn wife, Billie Joe.”

“No,” he hissed. “You want her gone so bad? You bring her to me.”

Travis laughed and Billie Joe cringed. “Alright, don’tcome pick up your wife. I’m done trying with you.” Billie Joe cocked an eyebrow, confused now. “But tomorrow morning when your wife wakes up and looks to me for advice, there is no more of me helping you out, man. I’m finished helping you. You are an ungrateful sonofabitch that has never deserved someone as good as your wife. As of tomorrow I am finished telling her to go back to you. Maybe then you’ll realize what an asshole you are.”

Billie Joe bit the skin of his lip off and closed his eyes. He shook his head for a moment and then heard voices in the background. “What are you doing?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Uhh..nothing,” Travis muttered to the other being in the room.

It occurred to Billie Joe right then who it was, and he could almost literally feel his heart drop. He should have been comforted to know for a fact that his wife was with her best friend, but fuck, her best friend was a highly attractive man that had [even though denied it]loved his wife for years.

Fifteen years.

“I heard you yelling. Why are you up?”

Billie Joe cringed as he heard his wife’s voice, the thought of how she was looking at Travis, the way she probably was touching him. He almost hung up on Travis to call her damn cell phone at the moment just to get her away from him, but he knew that he’d probably have a damn panic attack if she picked up. “Uhh…nothing. Go back to sleep,” Travis responded. Billie Joe scowled and Travis sighed into the phone. “It’s up to you, man,” Travis muttered quickly and then the line went dead.

Billie Joe sat curled up on the large mattress, the phone still pressed against his ear. In a fit of fury he clicked the off button and chucked it as hard as he could at the wall at the far end of the room. The sound of the phone breaking into different pieces satisfied his anger for a second as he turned over in the bed and hastily pulled the blanket up around his naked torso. Fuck them. Fuck fuck fuck them. Let them be fucking happy together. Let them get fucking married and be fucking together for the rest of their fucking lives. Fuck them both. I don’t need this mother fucking shit from that piece of shit fucking asshole. I don’t fucking need any-fucking-body.

Billie Joe lied in bed with his eyes closed for about fifteen minutes before he angrily threw off the covers, pulled on a t-shirt and sweat pants. He checked on Sydney quickly and decided not to wake her since he wouldn’t be gone long, grabbed the keys to the Lexus and left the Armstrong mansion.

Who the fuck did Travis think he was?