The Other Woman

Stacks of old wrinkled blueprints lay before me, ruffled and tossed together in heaps of dismal excitement on my desk. Checkerboard sized cards of a variety of wooden floor samples knock against the desk as I tap the card to a beat in my head. Sitting quietly at my crowded desk, the radio lightly pumps out tunes of classic rock as I try my best to concentrate on the decision at hand.

Oak or maple...

A current female client was revamping her house, doing a complete renovation of her large upscale abode in the wealthier city of West Palm Beach, Florida. With a small team of designers hired from Design Inc., each of us were liable for a portion of the house. My job was the kitchen, the heart of the house. Immediately, college courses consisting of Textiles Design, Residential Design, and design principals come flooding back to memory. Quite a few years have passed, and to be honest, the information was quite blurry. I had forgotten which wood would best suit a home in Miami, considering temperature, climate, etc.

Tossing the large card of wood types aside, I take a glance at the triangular clock atop my desk, smiling when I see that it's lunchtime, and that whoever this Brittney Cade person was, she would have to wait a little longer for her kitchen plans.

"Will you stop picking at my plate!" I playfully snip at the not so gentleman in front of me. His right hand quickly retracts from my plate, but not before thieving a small shrimp and dropping it down his throat.

"I should've ordered that, my food is too greasy," he complains, sticking his steak with a silver fork.
"No wonder Jen couldn't make it, you're so annoying Rick," I tease with a grin, now picking a small piece of steak from his greasy plate.
"Hypocrite," he mumbles, now sipping from his tall glass of lemonade.

Even though the bright sun filters and shines gingerly in the sky, the 52 degree weather is still blisteringly cold to my limbs.
"Why are you shivering? It aint even that cold," says Rick, placing a forkful of steak into his moist mouth.
"Sorry I'm not from New York, where it's twenty below," I reply mockingly. He's wearing only a simple black t-shirt, and blue jeans knee-length shorts, while I shiver relentlessly in a flannel turtleneck and warm, cotton suit pants.
"Then how are you gonna handle coming up next weekend for the MTV thing? It'll probably be below zero then," he chatters.
"I'm planning on wearing three pears of pants all at once, and just attaching myself to Tre for that trip," I spout, "Did you find an all white outfit yet?"

He nods his sandy brown hair, now chugging the remaining lemonade in the glass.
"You?"
"No, we're all going tomorrow afternoon, including you," I smirk.

"What? More shopping?!" he groans, finishing off his lunch.

An excellent Christmas had passed soon after. Instead of traditionally spending the holiday with Jen, Rick, and possibly Mark, I had opted for staying with Tre. He had invited me to spend Christmas at his home with Claudia, Frankito, Ramona, his sister Shannon and stepbrother Todd. All of the women had helped prepare a delicious dinner consisting of a large turkey, chicken potpies, decorative salads, sweet rolls, cheesecakes, pies, and other delicacies.

After the Christmas dinner we had all sucked on giant candy canes that only Tre could somehow manage to purchase, and it was even funnier when his sticky and wet fingers found their way into Ramona's ear. A tedious gift exchange followed, and I was more than shocked when I received presents from Claudia and Todd, but of course my favorite gift was from Tre; a charm bracelet with "little charms that represent our relationship".

The air seems jagged and crisp as it fans my face. Tiny specks of snow appear like dandruff over my head and clothes, melting into whatever it touches. The New York sky is gray all around, not a bird in sight since most have migrated south. This is definitely unpleasant weather; it made winters in Miami seem like being on vacation in the hottest part of South America, either that or the Sahara.

"Dad, can we go into The Gap? I want to wear some funky socks to the party," Ramona pleads to her father in the chilling wind.
"If you want, but I have some socks in the car that are funky," he replies smoothly, and hopefully jokingly. The young female replica of Tre only rolls her eyes at her dad before wrapping her fingers around the metal handle and stepping into the store.

"Ramona has nice taste in clothing, The Gap kicks ass," I manage to mumble through chattering teeth as Tre and I enter the large shop.
"She gets it from me," he smirks, relieving his upper body of a large black jacket. I understandably, leave my mine on, and it would stay on until the Florida sun welcomed me back. Tre and I walk silently through the store, keeping a miniscule distance behind his daughter and her best friend Ebony as they shop for this and maybe that. As my gloved fingers brush over the cashmere, wool, and cotton fabrics of shirts and sweaters, Tre's hand slides affectionately into mine. We smile at each other, brown eyes seeping into sparkling blue eyes.

"So what are you wearin tomorrow night? Besides me... " he asks, our pace slowing as the giggling pre-teens spot their 'funky' socks.
"I already got my all white outfit. Did you get yours or does your ten man crew of stylists have it waiting for you?"
"Ha-fucking-ha," he mutters, making me grin as his eyes narrow. "I got my shit already, so fuck you and your wack jokes."

"Love you too," I announce sweetly, plopping a kiss to his cheek.
"Love you more," he smiles in return, laying a short kiss to my lips.

As we walk hand in hand through the Gap, with Tre telling Ramona 'that's too short' or 'that's too tight', I'm smiling deep inside. I was happy, ecstatic, at ease in my life. Ever since I was detoxed from the drug formally known as Billie Joe, things had changed dramatically, and for the better. I had a new job, no drama, a wonderful boyfriend who cared deeply for me, and did I mention no drama?

"Fucking wench," he muttered back and forth as he tossed his jacket on the floor.
"What are you talking about?" I asked Billie Joe as he stepped closer to me, allowing my nostrils to inhale the not so sweet aroma of alcohol on his breath.
"Adie," he muttered miserably. "Stupid bitch, I can't stand her," he grunted. And before I could say anything further, his hands cup my face and his alcohol-stained lips are pressed to mine.
"MmmBill," I muttered against his mouth, using my hands and trying to separate myself from him.
"What?" he asks impatiently, rolling his eyes as he takes a step back, losing his footing.
"You're drunk, you need to go lay down or something," I offer kindly.
"If I wanted to lay down, I would've stayed fucking home. I came here for you baby," he coos in a drunken voice, rewrapping his arms around my waist.

I try to resist the wave of pleasure that washed over me when his lips and tongue mingled with the skin of my neck, surely giving me a hickey. And when his rough fingers find their way to the buttons of my jeans, I involuntarily sigh, a feeling of relaxation coming over me. But this feeling soon perishes when the drunk guitarist opens his eyes, thrusts his arms out, and savagely pushes me away, resulting in me almost falling flat on my ass.

"What's your fucking deal Billie?!" I shout, anger and confusion clouding my sight.
"I can't do this!" he shouts back. "Fucking hell... " he mutters back and forth. "I love her, I love my wife!"

Tears begin prickling my eyes, but I wasn't going to cry in front of him, not this idiot.
"Then why the hell are you here?! You say the same shit every fucking day, but you still come here! Make up your fucking mind dumbass!" I shout in return, completely fed up with his ambivalent mind.

"Is Serenity home?" Tre squawks, his hand waving manically in my face.
"Sorry," I blush, "I was thinking of something."
"Mona's done shopping, so we're headin' out, kay?"
I nod my head, pulling my hood back on as we exit the warm store and reenter the blistering cold.

"I love you," he moans into the crevice of my neck, warm water pelting against our already hot skin.
"Tre... " I whimper, too caught up to form a straight and coherent sentence. With my legs wrapped comfortably around his slippery waist, we melt against each other in the mist of the shower. My arms threaten to tangle in a knot as they bind around his neck, shoulders, stomach, chest, and anywhere else they could reach, his arms doing the same thing as he grinds against me, moaning my name in the shell of my ear.

I claw at his back one last time before he pulls out and I slide down both the slippery shower wall, and his slippery torso. He quickly switches off the pipes, cool water now pumping out, before opening the steamy shower door and handing me a fluffy white towel.
"Thanks," I grin, wrapping the warm cotton material around my drenched and satiated body.
"Lets get outta here," he coos, now curling a wet strand of my hair around his finger. I'm just about to turn to soft mush on the floor, probably going to clog in the drainer when he kisses my lips one last time, and pushes the strand behind my ear.

What did I do to deserve this?

I walk into the bedroom, slipping on a snug pair of pajamas while glancing at Tre as he too gets ready for bed. I climb into the soft and comfy bed and pull the warm comforter over my body, desperately trying to gather what warmth I can. The lights suddenly go out, followed by the bed giving as Tre climbs in with me.

"I'm beat," he yawns, gathering me into his arms, his nose nuzzling the back of my neck.
"Me too, but I'm excited for tomorrow."
"Me too, and guess who we're performing with? You're not gonna believe it," he grins through the darkness.

"Coldplay?"
"Nope."
"Tenacious D?"
"Nope."
"My mom?"
He grins, "Maybe, I have to recheck."

"I dunno," I whine, "Just tell me." And with that I bring up his hand which was sitting adjacent to my chest, and add small kisses to each finger.
"It's a rapper, and he's crawling all through your iPod."
"Kanye West?" I offer unsurely, removing his kissed fingers and stuffing them on my waist.
"No, you're so lame Seny. I'm referring to Snoop Dogg. S.N.double O to the P. With the D.O. double G."

"Oh God" I giggle, "please don't change genres."
Tre too laughs, before re-snuggling himself against me.
"And he isn't crawling through my iPod. I only have like 3 songs by him on it."
"Well, to me that's crawling."

"Does Billie have to rap with him? Because if so, I'm recording every second of it, and expect that to be my new ring tone."

"No" he chuckles, "I'm not exactly sure what's gonna happen, but if Billie Joe raps, we'll probably get death threats."
Chuckling, I intertwine my legs between his, sleep becoming imminent.

"Thanks," I yell, accepting my frothy glass of champagne from Adrienne.
"Do you know what time the guys are on?" she shouts after taking only a short sip of her own.
"Tre told me at like 10:30 and then sometime after that, I'm not really sure."
Nodding she chuckles for a half a second before digging into her white purse and retrieving a horrid set of glitter purple New Years glasses and putting them on.

"How do I look?"
"Sophisticated," I laugh sarcastically, also sending her into a fit as well.

Adrienne's mouth open to reply, but instead giggles erupt when the arms of her husband gather behind her. Billie lifts her from behind, swinging her around backstage, all the while laughing and happy. Happy that they'd have another year to share, happy that his secret had been stowed away for another...

I had yet to spot Tre backstage, so instead mingled with the others. It's only a little after 9, so I had plenty of time to find him in time for a New Years kiss.

"Guess what I've got for you?" Jen suddenly blurts from beside me, wiggling her thin eyebrows as she jitters with happiness.
"What?"
And with that, she springs forth her hand which had been hidden behind her back and hands me a tall champagne glass full of liquor. The fluid inside is a colorful mixture of deep ocean blue, and at the bottom a light sea green. Intrigued, I take the glass from my best friend, wanting to taste her colorful surprise, especially since she used to be a bartender, a damned good one too.

"I think its my best work yet. You wouldn't believe the amount of drinks MTV has back here. And me and Rick went hunting through cupboards and shit too!"

Letting out a hearty laugh, I allow the cool glass to touch my lips, the aroma already intense. With a fruity ting and an abundant buzz of champagne and schnapps, I empty half the glass in just a sip.
"That's amazing Jen."
"I know," she replies smugly, brushing imaginary dirt off her shoulders.
"Where is Rick by the way? And I haven't seen Mark since we first got here."
We walk through the waves of people backstage, discussing the whereabouts of Rick and Mark, who had snuck out and went elsewhere, presumably the strip club a few blocks away.

"I miss Jack, I wish he came," she announces wistfully as we brush pass people with microphones tucked in their ears.
With a roll of my eyes I reply, "He would've probably ruined the day."
"Just enjoy being by yourself for once," I add a bit more pleasantly.

"Now why would she do such a thing if I'm around?" interrupts a voice that I've come to love. Twirling around, I face Tre, who's wearing a cocky grin on those lips, and a champagne glass full of what else, champagne, in his hand. With fingers polished with black varnish, and the sexiest pair of kohl-lined eyes that anyone can see, he winks, sending familiar chills up my spine. He's wearing a white dress shirt with the traditional white tie on the left collar, a silver chain dangling from his neck, and white dress pants to match. His ginger brown hair, waxed into a faux hawk seems daring, and hella sexy.

When my eyes finally drift from his attire to his eyes, I almost giggle, because he's doing the same thing, gawking at me from every inch. The only exception is that I had the will power to not lick my lips, which he hadn't. He drinks in my lacey white halter, with tiny rhinestones at the bust line. White knickers decorate my bottom, which are embellished with snowflake shaped rhinestones, for my shoes a simple pair of white flats sufficed.

"Are you two done visually undressing each other?" squawks Jennifer who seems to be perceptive.
"Just about," Tre responds throatily, causing Jen to playfully roll her eyes while walking off to mingle with other guests.

"You look pretty handsome tonight... " I trail, hooking my finger at him. He grins, stepping a bit closer to me, letting his nose brush softly with mine.
"I could say the same to you. What have you been up to?"

"A little this, and a lot of that," I whisper, adding a small kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"Oh really now?" he challenges, raising an eyebrow for emphasis as he uses his arm and settles his now empty glass atop a trey of a waiter who had just passed by. The arm then retracts and rightfully wraps around my waist, pulling us even closer.

"I can't wait til' the clock strikes twelve," he confesses in the shell of my ear. "I've been waiting all week for it."
"Me too," I smile. "What time do you get on stage?"
"I got ten minutes." He pouts, but the pouts morph into chuckles as I plaster his lips with intoxicating kisses.

As Green Day's set began to form on stage, each drum in place and every amp standing, the time had quickly ticked by. Rick and Mark both had found their way back to MTV studios in Time Square, and Jen had completed her mingling, and flirting. Glasses of champagne were passed throughout the sea of people whom formed the crowd, and with an enchanting 'clink' the band took the stage. The infamous West Coast rapper, Snoop, took the stage as well and introduced his 'cousins from Oakland'. His tall figure dressed in an impressive white and silver outfit mouthed idiocy into the mic, causing me to giggle but enjoy him nonetheless.

And like that Billie, Mike, and Tre stormed the stage and jumped right into American Idiot. The hordes of people jumped, chanted, and rocked out beneath the stage, while Adrienne, Jen, and I cheered backstage. After Longview and Basket Case had been performed, it was just a quarter to twelve and Fat Joe was now performing.

"Tre... " I warn with a slight smile, "do not start rapping. We already discussed this a few days ago. You are punk rock, not rap, got it?"
"Yo, my name is Tre, my girl is Seny and in the backstage we get hot and heavy," he dreadfully rhymes, causing everyone in the back V.I.P room to roar with laughter, he and I included.

Shifting a little, I sit a bit more comfortably in his lap, leaning impossibly closer against his chest, enjoying the feel of his fingertips grazing my clothed thigh. Adrienne and Billie Joe are only a few meters away, kissing and cuddling in a world of their own. Mike and Vanessa are nowhere to be found, and I easily spot Rick and Mark trading numbers with different women from the main floor.

"We're are we heading after this? Wanna go to that new club outside of Manhattan?" he chirps after taking a large gulp of his cheech.

"I don't care, as long as you're with me," I mumble, now fiddling with the black nail varnish across his fingernails. The sensation of his lips against my temple warms me, despite the polar weather outside.
"Wanna head out to the balcony now, they're gonna start counting down soon."

Simply nodding, I scoot myself from his warm lap, smoothing out the wrinkles in my shirt before sliding my hand into his waiting hand. Grinning we exit the V.I.P room, excusing ourselves as we head upstairs towards a dazzlingly illuminated balcony. Once there, I notice the lavish lights perched atop the glassed landing, the light speckles of snow powdering our bodies. Vanessa, MTV's jovial VJ is heard from down yonder, her happy voice telling everyone to soon gather round so we could all recite the countdown.

Pulling Tre's hand just a bit, we brush passed the very few people outside and find ourselves a comfortable spot in the room. A large window exhibits the stunning view of Time Square, thousands of bodies squashed and shivering together outside, followed by the 'The Ball', hanging brightly overhead.
"This is gorgeous," I proclaim, eyes scanning the outrageous view. Tre huddles beside me, pressing another devilishly warm kiss to my temple. Wordlessly, we listen and wait, laughing whenever an announcer made a mistake, or when someone made a fool of themselves from inside.

"In just thirty seconds, we'll be welcoming the New Year!" Vanessa chants to the sea of MTV viewers. Just as Tre and I turn our heads to lock into yet another kiss, we hear the loud bustling of individuals coming into 'our' room, some of who are Billie Joe, Adrienne, Mike, and Vanessa.

"There you guys are!" greets a sloshed Mike, who even throws an arm around my shoulder for a friendly hug.
"Mike, we're gonna start!" exclaims Vanessa, she too experiencing her first 'celebrity' New Years Eve just as I.

"Love you!" I squeal into Tre's ear, causing him to flinch.
"Love you too!" he yells back, and then the entire room begins chant.

"10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2—"

Before the remaining numbers can be spoken, Tre presses me against the large glass window, and immediately dips his head, lips interlocking with mine. As the remaining individuals finish off the countdown with a bang, and the glittering ball of light drops from outside, Tre and I are already in a world of our own. With my arms snaked around his neck, and his securely wrapped around my obedient waist, we smile into the kiss, never parting.

The bubbling sounds of celebration surround me, along with confetti and other assortments of party gear. But our kiss lingers on, tongue meshing against tongue, nose brushing against nose, teeth scraping against lips. Until finally, the need for oxygen takes precedent.

"You could've let us finish counting you know... " I mumble playfully to Tre, making sure to use the back of my hand to wipe away any kiss residue.
"You didn't like getting the wind knocked out of you?"
"No, I loved it, like how I love you," I retort, smiling brightly the entire while.
"I love you too," he coos in return, brushing his forehead against my own. "Now lets get wasted!"

A new year had sprung aboard, 2005. Promises of blossoming relationships and job success were underway, but hurdles were definitely going to be crossed. This year would be both the best and worst times of our lives, major success for the band, but pure and genuine hell in our personal lives.

And it would all start with Jack... and his demise.

But for now, no one knew of our faiths, and so, we celebrated.