Best Man

As a coffee cup slid across the counter and crashed into several pieces in the kitchen sink, neither Mike or Caroline seemed to wince. They shut doors harder than usual, as if making some remarkable statement. But really they were just slamming out of aggravation. They pulled out kitchen chairs too roughly and pushed them in just as rough until they hit the table with a resonating thud. The two of them stomped around the house as if they were children who'd been denied something they really wanted from their parents.

But they weren't speaking to each other. Not even yelling, shouting or screaming as they had when the fight had erupted a week earlier that put them both in this funk.

It got to the point that they were even starting to avoid eye contact with each other. And if it was awkward for them, living with each other like this, then it was a wonder how Giselle was managing for the last seven days under their roof.

Every time she heard a door slam or a pair of feet stomping away, she cringed.

She really wanted to say something; perhaps sit them down together in the same room, at the same time, and play the mediator so that they could talk this all out like civilized people. But she didn't. It would cross the boundary of who she was to them. She was Caroline's sister. Too close to the problem to be objective.

So she let them ride this out on their own; hoping they could find something to mend this current tear in their relationship.

And, while she waited for that to happen, Giselle found some escape by going to work or heading over to Tre's house to hang out and do random things with him.

One of those random things being making out. Something of which they'd found themselves doing for almost a month at this point.

This particular day, the 11th of September, Giselle was laying on Tre's living room couch, with her legs draped over his lap as he sat on the cushion beside her; his hands massaging her feet as they chatted.

"I don't know what to do," she muttered, shaking her head. "The silent treatment's been going on for the last week and it's driving me insane. They won't speak to each other, and instead all they do is slam things and whatnot. How am I supposed to live in a house like that?"

Tre offered her a sympathetic smile, resting his hands on her ankles while casting her a sidelong glance. "Well, you could stay here whenever you want, you know."

Giselle nodded, but just as a reaction. She hadn't actually heard him.

"Have you tried talking to them?"

"Attempted. But this is for them to work out on their own terms."

"Well, whatever happens, happens."

Giselle snapped her attention away from her lap where her hands were crossed, up to meet Tre's eyes. "Wait--what? You mean you wouldn't care if this got worse for them?"

"That's not what I said."

"But it's what you meant," she stated simply.

"Uh, no. What I meant is just what I said. Whatever happens, happens. If they fix things between them, then that was meant to happen. If they can't, then that was meant to happen."

Narrowing her eyes, she pursed her lips in thought as she studied Tre's face.

"Okay, you gotta stop doing that," he continued, shuddering a little. "Your analytical eyes are giving me the heebies."

Giselle smirked. "Sorry. Force of habit. I'll change the subject to something less analytical." Leaning forward she took his hands in hers and smiled a bit wider as she bit her bottom lip. "So...wanna make out?"

Tre pulled his head back for a moment and laughed. "You sure know the way to a man's heart, don'tcha?"

"What can I say? I can read people very well and can easily figure out what it is they want."

Wiggling his eyebrows, Tre moved forward and snaked his right arm around Giselle's waist, pulling his body over hers as he turned slightly on the couch. Bringing his lips upon hers, the two of them kissed for several moments before coming up for air.

"I really like you, Giselle," Tre murmured.

"I really like you, too."

"How much?"

"Enough to keep you wanting more."



As a slight breeze whisped through her dark hair, Caroline shoved her hands into the shallow pockets of the black, Adeline Street hoodie she was wearing as she walked by some of the shops on San Francisco's Pier 39.

Tipping her head down and peering over her large, black sunglasses, Caroline turned to her right to look at the profile of Billie Joe, who was walking beside her, wearing practically the same style of sunglasses, along with a black and white trucker hat that said 'FBI: Female Body Inspector' on it.

"Take a picture. It lasts longer," he muttered without looking at her.

Playfully scoffing, Caroline reached her right hand out and gave him a slight shove. As he finally turned to look at the brunette, he grinned.

"Oh, bite me," she remarked.

"Where?"

As the two bantered back and forth, they were mildly surprised they didn't draw any attention to themselves as she moved through the crowd of people that milled about all around.

When they stepped into a clothing boutique, the bell above the door jingled, letting whoever ran the store know that a customer or two had entered their establishment.

The woman by the cash register nodded to them and sent a greeting as well, which they acknowledged and returned before going back to whatever it was they were talking about.

"So, why did you want me to come shopping with you?"

"Because you're the only person who isn't involved in my problems and I wanted to shop. 'Cause it's this...weird, therapeutic thing for me. Buy things I don't really need, but will make me look good; therefore make me feel good."

"Mmkay."

Pushing her sunglasses up until they sat on top of her head, like a headband, Caroline stepped over to a rack of skirts with different paisley designs that were in different color patterns, but generally all the same.

"Hands off that skirt," he commented, as she was pulling out one to admire. "It'll make your ass look huge."

"What, are you gay now? Is this Queer Eye?"

Smacking his tongue between his teeth in a tsk-ing sound, Billie Joe placed one hand on his hip and the other hand he used to snap his fingers backward. "Girlfriend, if you can't beat them, join them," he joked with a lisp.

Letting out a giggle, Caroline bit down on her tongue and put the skirt away and instead reached her hand out to flick a curl of dirty blonde hair sticking out of his hat and curling it around her finger.

"Thanks for coming with me. I like having you as a friend." As she grew serious, so did he. Dropping her hand back to her side, she looked away toward another rack of skirts. "I have so much shit on my mind and Mike just can't understand. I can't talk to him about it, because he just..." she continued, but trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh.

"So, tell me about it."

"Well, for one, there's the subject of my sister getting comfy with Tre lately, and it's too weird for me."

"Understandable. Tre's moved onto another and the fact that the two of you were bumpin' uglies not that long ago makes it awkward. And let me guess, you just wish Giselle could find someone different so you didn't have to face that past, right?"

"Exactly," Caroline nodded. "It might be selfish of me to want that, but it's how I feel, and I can't change that overnight. Whereas Mike thinks it's great because he thinks that Tre's focus is elsewhere now and we can all live happily ever after. But it just doesn't work that way, you know?"

Billie Joe just nodded. "What else is bothering you?" he wondered, picking up a hanger adorned with a funky blouse he found to be atrocious, but still held it up to Caroline to see what it'd be like on her. But then he shook his head, grimaced, and put it back.

"Nick."

"Ah, your plucky bassist," the Green Day frontman muttered. "Pun intended."

"Not anymore."

Staring right at Caroline, Billie Joe took his sunglasses off as his lips parted slightly. "What d'ya mean 'not anymore?'"

"Nick's the leaving the band. Decided that this wasn't where he really wanted to be anymore," she answered. Then added, bitterly, "Asshole."

"I don't get it. Why the change of heart?"

"He says that this isn't the life he wants to lead anymore. The constant touring, the constant recording...blah, blah, fucking blah. I mean, can you believe it? We've just started to get back into the swing of things where recording our second album is concerned and now he decides to leave us in the lurch. And, get this...to become a cop. Back home in Buffalo where layoffs happen more often than new recruits into the police force."

"What's he planning on doing then?"

"Him and Christina are gonna move to Buffalo, buy a nice house in one of the nicer neighborhoods with the money we've made so far, and join the police academy. I just...I don't understand how he'd want to give this all up. After all we went through to get this far."

"I'm sorry," Billie Joe offered. "So, what are you, Dave and Nef gonna do?"

"Look for a new bassist, I guess. I don't play. I can't take over, and as much as I'd love to steal him, I doubt you'd let me have Mike."

"Nope, sorry. The only way Mike's leaving the band is in a body bag. And unless you gotta thing for dead guys..."

Caroline smirked but her heart wasn't in it. "I'm also unsure of where Mike and I stand right now."

"Whoa, okay. Second blow of the day," Billie Joe spoke, a bit flabbergasted. "What do you mean by being unsure? Are you planning on calling it all off?"

"No...I mean, not the relationship, because I love him so much. Just...I think the wedding. It's too much. Too much pressure. After all, what's a piece of paper, right? Do we really need it to make our life together real?"

Billie Joe just frowned and placed a hand on Caroline's shoulder. When she pouted ever so slightly and looked up at him, he saw there was something more she wasn't saying.

"What else, Care?" he inquired as she opened her mouth to reply.



Sitting hunched over a cup of coffee at the table in the Armstrong kitchen, Mike looked completely out of sorts as Adrienne sat down with the fresh pot of dark liquid.

Wearing a sympathetic smile, she reached out and touched her free hand to his, covering it, and then wrapping her fingers around his. Leaning forward a bit, she tilted her head to the side as he looked up at his best friend's wife and his good friend with sad, blue eyes.

"She doesn't want to marry me," he whispered so low it was practically inaudible. "She doesn't even want to have my children..."

The last words from his mouth were followed by a hiccuped sob as he bent his head down and buried his face in his arms.