The Other Woman

Surely enough it was them. The first person I saw was Mike and his newly brunette hair do. He looked pretty annoyed at the amount of press and publicity he was getting, I saw him signing autographs with a ' I don't know you or care about you' look on his face. I giggled to myself. Next I saw the all too sexy Tre Cool. He seemed a little awkward too, but who wouldn't with flashes shining in your face and screaming fans surrounding you. But as usual, he still managed to look cute and somewhat poised. Lastly I saw my lover, Billie Joe, and a bright smile couldn't help but appear across my face. He was conspicuous with his jet black messy hair and his cheeky grin. He had a cigarette in his right hand, ready to be lit and placed into his warm mouth, and in his left hand, there was another hand latched on.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

And then I saw her.

Adrienne fucking, I mean Nesser, Armstrong, his beloved wife of over 11 years, tagging along and shyly smiling at the adoring fans and at her husband. Her hair messy, yet neat, was full of bouncy tied up dreads , and she wore a pair of black and white striped pants with a black tank top. She looked cute, I'll admit. Suddenly, I felt as if I was going to be sick, and by sick I mean Ebola, AIDS, and the black death, all wrapped in one, and ready to serve.

Why the hell did he bring her along? We had only screwed nearly 11 hours ago, and now he was miraculously attached to his unsuspecting wife.

'Sex craved jerk' I mutter, while pulling away from the devouring crowd.

I finally managed to walk back into the bar and found myself a seat at the bar table. Straightening out my top and flicking a stray hair from out of my face, I audibly noticed more noise than usual entering the bar. I guess, they were now in the premises, therefore I had to at all costs avoid Billie Joe, Adrienne, and probably Tre and Mike.

"What'll you be havin' pretty face?" asked the sloppy but kind of cute bartender.
"Uh, how about a shot of vodka." I responded. "Just for now" I added with a wink.
"Comin right up"

Not daring to turn my body around, at even the slightest of angles, my eyes drew to my sides, eyeing my neighbors for tonight. And as usual, ugly and/or perverted men were to my left and to my right. When my eyes glanced at the gentleman to my right he was licking his lips and wagging his eyes suggestively at me. I simply rolled my eyes, and allowed them to look to my left. The gentleman on my left was not my definition of cute, or maybe that was because he was just about passed out on the table with the reddest of eyes, and greenest of cheeks.

Scooting just a bit to my right to avoid the contents of the stranger's stomach from pouring onto me, the bartender came with my drink.

"Here you go cutie, one shot-o-vodka".
How corny.

"Thanks" I murmur to him.
"So, what are you doing here tonight? Meeting someone here?" he asks, while flipping and rotating a rather large bottle of champagne in hand.
He has dirty blonde hair, with streaks of brown going through it. A minimal amount of sweat can be seen from his forehead, and his eyes are a cross between brown and blue. His height isn't an issue, he's not tall, but he's certainly not my height.

"Naw, I'm just here to drink the night away and mingle with complete strangers" I tease.
"I see" he nods.
"My name's Br---"

Interrupting me from my conversation with the bartender is Peter, tugging like a fool on my arm.

"Serenity, you're not going to fucking believe this" he almost shouts.
"Peter, are you trying to leave here tonight with my arm? Let go" I warn.

Peter lets go. "Sorry". Still, he sways me over to a large crowd situated on the far right of Planet Fred.

"Peter. I already know Green Day is here, but I really don't want to get trampled over by drunk fans" I whine, pulling back so that he stops in his tracks with me.
"So where would you rather go?" he whispers seductively into my ear. The harsh stench of alcohol and used lime staining his breath is enough to make me vomit. But, I take the traditional route, by rolling my eyes and walking back over to my bar stool.

"Sorry about that" I shout over the bad music to the brown haired bartender.
"Its ok" he winks. And to show his forgiveness he hands me a free shot of vodka.
"On the house" he smiles.

Tugging my hair behind my ears I say "Thanks". And while bringing the drink to my needy lips, I hear a strange but familiar voice speak up next to me.

"Do you always give gorgeous girls free drinks?"

Turning my head, with vodka just glazing my top lip ready to be washed into my mouth, I see none other than Tre Cool.

My eyes widen to an abnormal and probably dangerous size. I immediately guzzle down my drink and want to leave, even though part of me wants to be introduced to this raspy, sexy, and funny man. And as fate would have it, we were introduced.

Right as my leg was about to come off the bar stool for me to leave, Tre speaks.

"So, I guess you're used to special treatment, right?"
"Not really" I answer nonchalantly, now playing with my shot glass. The bartender had just left to the other side to fulfill other order of drinks, leaving Tre and I alone, but still you could feel many eyes watching us both from a far.

"Aah, now you're lying, it's a fact. Pretty girls get treated better" he states assuringly.
"If that's the way you want to interpret it, be my guest. By the way, aren't you some huge rock star?" I ask dumbly. He had no idea of the extent to which I knew that answer.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Is his only reply. He takes a sip of his 'cheech', and for a split second I can't help but let my eyes wander to his lips. They resemble those of Billie Joe's, but his are just a bit fuller and curvier. I wonder if that means he's a better kisser?

"Well, Mr. maybe, maybe not. I must get going before someone stares at me long enough so that they hypnotize me".
Letting out a snort of laughter he says "Welcome to my life".
Smiling at him, I gather my purse and stand up from off the stool. Stretching my arms a bit, I feel my halter top rise a little and feel the warm smoky air of the bar, breathe upon my skin.

"Nice stomach" smirks Tre.
A bit startled yet flattered, and somewhat horny I smirk back at him.
"You haven't seen all of it"
"Is that an invitation?" he asks now getting up with me from the chairs.

I giggle a moment at how truly pathetic men are. You show a little stomach, and not even on purpose, and their pants are wet.

"Sorry, no invitation. You think just because you're a rock god you can bang any chick?" I smile evilly at him, challenging him to say a sly remark.

"Most of the time, but once every so often, a woman presents a challenge".
He smiles back at me, while throwing a 20 dollar bill over the table to pay and tip for his short-lived drink.

Raising an eyebrow, I eye Tre up and down and finally fall into a small fit of laughter.
"What's so funny?" he asks while signing a napkin as someone's autograph.
"I'm not even a challenge Mr. Suave. You have to at least know my name and properly present yourself to me, before I even become a challenge"
"Where are my fucking manners" He blurts while slapping his hand to his forehead.
"I'm Tre Cool, or Frank. Aka Green Day's infamous drummer, and your name maa'm?" he cooes.

"My names Serenity, but you're too late Mr. Cool" I giggle.

And with that, I turn on my heels and walk to the nearest exit, leaving Tre signing autographs behind. Just as I see the neon red EXIT sign hanging above the doors exit, someone accidentally bumps into me, and pretty hard too.

He turns around tipsy, and for the second time tonight my eyes are nearly displaced from their sockets. Turning around to face me and hopefully apologize is Billie Joe. Too bad he was still a bit sober, and that's when the staring contest began.