The Other Woman

A slightly familiar face greets me at the airport pick-up station. Wryly smiling, I trudge on over to none other than Henry, Tre's personal driver. His slightly wrinkled face is a warm welcoming in the cold atmosphere of Louisiana.

"Long time no see." he smiles while peeling off the pounds of luggage hanging grudgingly over my sweatered shoulder.
"I know, good to see you again." I smile in return, brushing back a few stray hairs before entering the crisp new vehicle, which is now a silver BMW instead of the Mercedes. A gasp followed seconds later by laughter heaves from my mouth as I take my seat.

"What the hell is so funny?" asks Mark, everyone's favorite dealer.
"Nothing," I sputter with slight excitement. "What are you doing here?!" I ask in a short squeal, engulfing his slim body into a hug.
"Business" he grumbles, getting pretty annoyed with the girly greetings. Rolling my eyes I sink back into the leather seat and my earlier disposition, nervous, excited and anxious, but mostly nervous. Three days prior to today, after that embarrassing night, Tre and I had only spoken once on the phone, and the five minute phone call was the biggest slice of awkward conversation that anyone could chew on. Filled with phony coughs, clearing of throats, miles worth of long pauses, and it seemed as if it had lasted forever. And the only topic we had managed to discuss was my travel and transportation arrangements for that day, today.

"What's up with you?" Mark asks, interrupting me from my bothersome thoughts, a small quirk in his black and bushy eyebrows. His gray flannel sweatshirt sticks comfortably to his slender body, black jeans fitting just right for the chilly weather.
"Nuthin, just have a small headache." I lie.

I watch as he nods and folds his right leg over his left, rubbing a sore spot on his unkempt white Nikes with his thumb. "Well," he pauses, now rubbing vigorously on the microscopic stain on his shoe, "don't be sick on Friday, that's Tre's birthday. Which is why I'm here in the first place. Mike and the other guy wanted some stuff for the party."

"Men" I mutter, now turning my head to look outside the tinted car window, examining a new city where I've never been. The morning sun is barely brimming the sky, only leaving the dry clouds in the open. Houses and buildings are built much different than in Miami, and the hills, valleys, and trenches were definitely something I couldn't get used to.

"Don't worry miss 'I'm not going to jail', I only brought a few grams of this, and a kilo of that" he grins while settling his crisp clean feet and shoes back onto the toasty floor, thanks to the heater in the vehicle.
"That's lovely" I reply, him grinning at my dry sarcasm in return.
"Aren't you going to ask me where else I've been?"

"Columbia? Jamaica?"
Mark snorts, a small sneer planted on his lips. "Nope, I've been out job hunting and doing some volunteer work, it makes me feel like a have a purpose. Plus someone else has been dealin' around our complex, so keep an eye out for me" he warns.

I begin rubbing my temples a bit harder, feeling an actual headache beginning to sprout.
"That's good Mark, I'm happy for you. But please stop talking" I groan.

"Um, I'll be traveling back and forth for a week or two. I don't think I'll even be staying anywhere for more than a day."
"That's cool. I always wanted to travel" the bellhop answers. Currently at the Sheridan Inn somewhere in the bustling city of Louisiana, I quickly step out of the elevator with the two medium sized bags lounging on my arms, while the bellhop fumbles after me with my larger bags in his tired grasp.

"Thanks a lot, I would have died carrying all of this up here" I murmur on our stroll down the gaily illuminated corridor to Tre's room.
"No problem maa'm" the young man smiles, his petite muscles rippling from the weighted luggage. We finally arrive outside of room 417 and a synch of uneasiness accumulates in my gut.
"Um, I can take it from here. Thanks again" I remark to the young man, handing him a crimpled ten dollar bill for his troubles. He nods his head and mumbles a thank you before slipping out of sight.

I decide to stand hopelessly outside the room for a few minutes before entering the interrogation room. My confession that had revealed my love for him kept replaying through my mind, rehashing my dismal feelings back and forth, repeatedly.
"Cunt" I scoff bitterly under my breath before pressing my knuckles against the white wooden door.

"Cummin" I hear his voice shout from the opposite end of the door. Seconds later the door flashes open and a smiling Tre is enveloping me in his arms.

Maybe I'm overreacting a bit.

"Tre... " I complain with giggles, "stop squeezing me!"
His bare arms leave my sides before he chuckles, dropping a quick kiss on my forehead. His hair looks just as straggled as before, and his skin is in desperate need of a tan no thanks to the dry Louisiana winter. Small specks of stubble protrude from his cheeks and chin, and his eyes seem even brighter than before, matching the winter blue. Wearing only a red shirt with suggestive signs and a pair of fitted jeans, he's quite a yummy site.

He slaps my ass in one quick motion before stepping past me and dragging my luggage inside his room, our room. I watch as he kicks the door shut with his bare foot, not bothering to lock it.
"How was your flight?" he asks while stretching his back, the difficult task of dragging my bags inside just a little too much for the drummer. He then walks over to the nearby couch, settling himself down into the plush yellow sofa and patting the seat next to him for me to sit and join him.
"It was alright, and Mark kept me company for the ride here" I mumble in reply while seating myself next to him, but I can't help the feeling of anxiety trailing inside, resulting in me keeping a miniscule distance between our bodies on the sofa.

"I thought you'd like that" he grins now settling his masculine arms over and around my shoulders. My heart automatically begins drumming to a fast beat of its own, me having to swallow large lumps of nerves in my dry throat.

"You ok?" he faces me, blue eyes trained precisely on my earthy brown orbs. "You feel tense."

"I'm fine," I lie. "I just have a small headache from the flight, and my ears still hurt a little." My head and eyes are still staring at the television, not wishing to look into my boyfriend's eyes at the moment.

"You want some painkillers? I can get some in the bathroom for you?" he politely offers.
"I just took some down in the lobby, but thanks." I reply. I watch from the corner of my eyes as he stares at me with questionable eyes before nodding unsurely and turns his attention back towards the television.

After that unbearable morning had finally ceased, the orange basking evening begins creeping into the sky. Another concert for the promotion of 'American Idiot' is scheduled tonight, but this night would be quite different from other nights on tour.

"I don't even want to think about what he's going to look like when he comes outta that room" Billie Joe warns from beside me. "Is my wig on straight Seny?"

I shake my head at the immaturity level of all three band members before lifting my arms and smoothing out the blonde wig attached to my ex-lover's head. Tonight they had all planned to dress in drag for tonight's concert, sort of a prerequisite to Tre's party the following day. Billie Joe is wearing a blonde mop of curls and crimps in his hair tonight, and his make-up of gothic black lipstick and maroon eye shadow appears simply dashing. I had even done him a favor of applying false blonde colored eyelashes to the tips of his eyelids, making his eyelashes look ghastly. He's also wearing a ratty old tube top dress that barely covers his crotch, so in the end he decided to wear black tights along with the dress, making him a truly frightening sight.

Being the simpler of the three, Mike only wore cherry red lipstick, a dash of white eyeliner, and a long red skirt that swayed at his feet with his signature black button vest. We hadn't spoken very much, and I'm almost sure he got suspicious when he glanced at Billie Joe and I laughing together as I helped him with his lashes.

"Thanks" he smiles while slicking his tongue over his chipped teeth.
"Please don't thank me Billie" I retort with a sly grin. He chuckles before walking over to the tall lengthed mirror in the corner of the room, his hips swaying sexily in the process.

"Damn," he finally murmurs after checking himself out. "I look like TOTAL shit"

I snort with laughter before nodding in agreement, but also eager to see what the ever creative Tre had done to himself.
"I'm gonna go see what Tre's up to" I announce while stepping outside.
"Alright." he waves, giving me a small, but innocent wink in the process.

I only roll my eyes while exiting into small hallway where Tre's dressing room lies.
"Tre?" I ask with a small knock on the door. I hear a small fumble from inside the room, before Tre begins spouting 'damn' and 'aww fuck' on his way to the door. When the black door hatches open, a sight so horrid catches my unwavering eyes. My mouth hangs open in utter disbelief, and laughter is begging on hands and knees to escape from my mouth.

"Pink isn't my color?" he grins before grabbing my hands and pulling me inside the room with him, shutting and locking the door behind. I'm laughing so hard at this point that my stomach feels as if I've been exercising for two hours straight.

Dawning a sheer pink and frilly tutu, Tre seems like a bewildered transvestite. His eyes are lined with pink liner with what is supposed to be an Egyptian like pattern to the sides. His curvy lips are painted with a neon pink lipstick, unlined to perfection. He's wearing a simple black dress shirt, all buttons buttoned to fend off the cold air, and underneath the ragged tutu is a pair of coffee beige colored nylons, his prickly brown leg hairs sticking out from the sheer material. And to top off the complex look, he's wearing a pair of pink 2-inch pumps, with glitter and sequins all over.

"So?!?" he shouts with enthusiasm, "Do I look hot or what?!"

"Hot shit" I giggle, meriting myself a small shove from Tre in the process.
"Ok" he challenges, "If look so horrible as you say, then fix me up"

I place a finger to my chin, pretending to think over his interesting offer.
"Fine. On one condition though"
"What's that?" he asks while attempting to fix his raven haired wig.
"As SOON as you leave that drum seat after the show, you MUST take all of that off. Not a second later." I grin
"Deal"

Walking past the she-man, I press myself over the bubble lit dresser, examining his tools and make-up items which lay sprawled out over the countertop. Only a second later I feel his front pressed up against my back, his lips sliding up and down my neck.

"You're insane" I mumble, trying to ignore his actions of affection. He laughs from behind me before wrapping his strong arms around my waist.

"What are you looking for?" he asks, leaning his head over my shoulder.
"You'll see. I'm gonna make you the prettiest girl here, excluding me of course."
He kisses the side of my neck as a sign of approval. I turn around with the tools of the trade in my hand before pushing Tre back a few inches to examine what needed to be mended or not.

"Please take off those stockings, unless you're willing to shave your legs."
"I don't have time to shave" he insists bending over and slipping the sheer garment off.

Eyeing him some more, I turn back around and hand him a moist cloth from inside the drawer.
"What the fuck is this?" he asks after feeling the wet cloth.
"Its to remove your make-up, you look worst than Billie"

After sticking out his tongue at me, he finally begins wiping away the circus theme make-up and discards the small towelette into a nearby metal wastebasket. I lean myself against the dresser before hooking my index finger at him, beckoning him to come closer. With a raised and intrigued eyebrow, he complies and places both arms on either side of me, blocking me from escaping his sexy prison.

I roll my eyes before untwisting the bottle of mascara in my hand.
"Try not to blink" I proclaim, beginning to swipe his lashes over with the mascara wand. When that task is finally complete I manage to squeeze myself around and retrieve a tube of liquid eyeliner. I turn back around to see Tre playfully licking his lips, looking as if he were a homeless man on Thanksgiving, and that I was the tasty free feast.

"You need to behave so I can put this around your eyes" I warn, now opening up the bottle of sunset pink eyeliner.
"I'll behave alright" he growls, pressing himself further up against me, causing me to giggle.

"Tre" I whine as he begins nipping at my neck and chin, his wig of black hair tickling my temples. "After I put this on we can play, kapeesh?"

He lifts his head for a one second before nodding, peeling himself off my body.
"Hold still baby" I complain while trying to add a design to the far corner of his left eye.
"I cant" he retorts, "Its tickling my eyes, and I'm about to c—"
"Don't talk, it makes you shake" I interrupt.

"Done" I exclaim seconds later, putting the cap back on and dropping the liner to the dresser. He extends his head to the side of me, checking himself over in the mirror behind me. He nods with approval a mischievous smile on display.

"I like it" he spouts, turning his attention back on me.
"Yep, and when we're done kissing, I'll put your lipstick on"

He places his hands on the back of my head and a sudden dip in his head catches me off guard. The kiss is so powerful, so breathtaking that I nearly choke on the fading air. My lips pushed against his feel phenomenal, and the pressure of his hands on the back of my head spins my senses out of control. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I bring him closer to me, before dipping my head and smothering his neck with small kisses and miniature bites. He groans at the sensation before dragging his fingers down to the back of my thighs and using his hands to lift me up, allowing me to sit atop the dresser. He nudges my legs open with his waist, allowing himself to fit comfortably between my thighs as his tongue begins assaulting the insides of my mouth.

"Feel like a lesbian?" he sputters between kisses. I unglue my lips from his, "Sort of, but not really" I reply heavily, no precious air left in my lungs. Without another word, our lips connect again in a flurry of passion and wild emotion. My hands crawl up to his head, and roughly claw themselves underneath the wig until finally the mop of black synthetic hair is tossed to the floor, and a revolting stocking cap appears on his head. I quickly rip the material from off his head, Tre laughing between kisses at my savagery.

A soft moan exits my lips when I feel his cool hands stroke the skin of my stomach, letting the warm body air trapped inside my sweater out. I can feel him getting slightly 'hard and bothered' down and under, which makes me want him even more.

"TRE, YOU DONE IN THERE!?" bellows a deep voice from the other end of the door. A shot-glass size of panic shoots through me as I jerk away from Tre, who's hands had just begun fumbling with the zipper on my jeans.

"Yeah, are we about to start?!" Tre yells, a devilish smirk on those lips.
"Yeah man, hurry the hell up in there!" Mike hollers back.

"You're too distracting, I shouldn've let you in here" he grins releasing his comfy hold around my waist. I giggle as he backs up, allowing me to hop off the table and properly rearrange my clothing.

"No I'm not, if I'm not mistaken, YOU'RE the one who initiated that, not me."
"Liar" he mutters while placing his wig back onto his head.

After the mind boggling show is finished and the stampede of fans had exited with autographs, pictures, shirts and CDs, the time to skid back to the hotel had come, and Tre's birthday was now only a few minutes away. The limo is filled with bottle upon bottle of either beer or champagne, compliments of Henry. He had known that we would not be arriving by midnight to the Sheridan, and decided to throw a small get together on the ride there instead.

"To Tre, for finally catching up to Mike and I, and becoming an old fart like the rest of us!" a tipsy Billie Joe toasts. A cheer of "Wooo's" bellow throughout the tinted limousine, the sweaty and tired members of Green Day, and myself cheer for the now 32 year old man who is cradling me in his arms, a glass of bubbling champagne in his hand. He smiles brightly before all of us chuck the alcohol down, enjoying the celebratory feelings.

After the entertaining drive to the Sheridan had ended and everyone was back in their respective bedrooms, very tipsy and slightly drunk, Tre and I had snuggled together in bed, managing to chat about this and that.

"This is the worst present I've ever gotten" Tre complains adjacent to me. I giggle from next to him, positioning myself so that we can fit evenly together on the bed, my legs between his and his arms, grudgingly, wrapped around my waist.

"Calm down Tre, one night without sex isn't going to kill you, it might actually do you some good." I suggest my glass obviously half full.
"Worst gift. I haven't seen you in weeks among weeks, and the ONE night where I'm not tired from after a show, you don't wanna have sex." he mopes, his glass obviously half empty, possibly ALL empty.

"I already told you that I'll make it up to you tomorrow baby" I faux plea. He snuggles his head closer to mine, burying his nose into the slender crook of my neck, breathing in my scrumptious scent.

"Fine" he sighs, "are you gonna tell me what you bought me then?" I feel him grin against my skin, already knowing the answer to his absurd question.

"When it snows in Florida" I reply in a casual whisper, slowly succumbing to the dark room and sleep.
"I hate you" he scoffs, dropping a sloppy and meaningless kiss to my bare shoulder.
"Likewise" I yawn.

"I'm so happy we have a day off tomorrow" he yawns, tightening his grip around me
"Mhmm" I nod, "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"
"Not sure, Mike and Bill say they have surprise before the party"

Jerking my head around, I try my best to give him a scowling look through the dark, but he's obviously blind.
"Did they tell you your party is tomorrow?"
"Yep" he yawns again.

"I have never seen so many dates being switched in my life, who opened up their big mouth and told you?"
"Do you have to ask?"
"Billie Joe" I laugh.