Beverley's Bolero

Two months later, Beverley found herself standing in The Bank of America Center at 555 California Street in San Francisco. With a bunch of replaced credit and identification cards at her disposal, the young woman had intentions of coming here and withdrawing half of her assets from the joint account she had shared with her husband.

Waiting in line at the bank was very fatiguing for one whom had been through so much emotional stress in the past months. Beverley grinded her teeth and twiddled her thumbs as her purse strap sat wrapped about her arm. She cocked her head, looking down at the visible scars seeping through her black pantyhose as the man in front of her was called up to the counter by the accountant. She bit her lip, feeling so damn bored she could have literally gone blind.

The sun rose high in the sky as smog enveloped the Japanese landscape. Aftershocks of the earthquake came and went frequently throughout the following day. Sometimes it seemed it wouldn't hold up long enough to let the day be considered "The Aftermath" or stop the claim of new victims.

I fell into a sleep spell by the time the paramedics had finished doing all they could for me. I was nicked to the nigh of death. Not literally, but quite severely emotionally strained and drained.

It was some hours later when I came around. Feeling dog tired even still, I was surprised to find myself lying in the back of a limousine in the company of four acquaintances. One was missing to my knowledge. My eyes fluttered open only enough to view that the scenery outside the windows was not Tokyo, but in fact the southern highway. Although realizing I should have felt quite alarmed to have woken up in a car with people I barely knew, I recall also feeling a sense of comfort.

"Where are we going?" I said, speaking in a low croaked morning voice.

"Oh, you're awake," said the Hispanic woman. "We're on our way to Yamanashi and just so you're not severely freaked out, my name is Adrienne."

"Hi... " I whispered nervously and switched my eyes to the man sitting beside her.

"Tre didn't want to leave you behind, because he was worried about nobody claiming you and taking you home, you know," the black-haired man explained. "And we agreed, because all the hospitals are packed, you know and the airport's been shut down, otherwise we'd have flown both of you to a hospital in Beijing. I'm Billie Joe by the way, but you can call me Billie."

"Tre?" I said, raising my eyebrows and rubbing the fatigue from my eyes.

"Yeah, our drummer," said a blonde man whom had been sitting calmly next to a plumper man at the front of the limo's cab.

"Drummer, wait who are you guys?"

"I'm Mike Dirnt and this is Jason White," the blonde-haired man said, pointing at the short plump man.

"Oh, where's Tre Cool? Is he okay?"

"Honey, you're leaning on him," Adrienne said, raising her eyebrows and smiling at me.

I rubbed my eyes again and slowly began to sit up from the horizontal position I'd been sleeping in. I turned around, discovering I had indeed fallen asleep with my head propped up on Tre's stomach. There was the fifth acquaintance. Straightening my posture, I scratched my head; a proper, educated young woman whom was easily embarrassed.

"Don't worry, he's been out of it all afternoon. At least the paramedics were able to stop the bleeding," Billie said and he leant into Adrienne. "A portion of his chest plate's been broken."

"My God," I murmured. "Why are we going to Yamanashi?" I inquired, biting into my punctured lip.

"Like I said, the airport is closed and right now we're just trying to be anywhere other than Tokyo. It's a fucking war zone up there, honestly," Billie Joe replied.

"Look, I have a house in Denenchofu. If you'll take me there, I don't mind you staying, since you've been so generous to me," I offered.

"Where's Denenchofu?" Jason asked.

"It's the southwest suburb of Tokyo. Yes it's busy, but I'd also like to check and see what kind of condition my house is in," I reasoned as I turned my head to the side and quietly watched Tre sleep in his blood-stained t-shirt.

"That's understandable," Adrienne replied and nodded her head. "Billie, we should have the driver turn around."

"Ade, it's kind of iffy back there. I don't know if it's a good idea," Billie Joe said.

"It'll be fine honey," Adrienne assured and she fixed her eyes on Beverley. "Doctor...is it?"

"Dr. Sampson, but since I just technically booted my husband to the curb, you may simply call me Beverley Feldman. Or Beverley, whichever suits you best," I replied politely.

Adrienne nodded and turned towards the limousine cockpit's window. "Mike, could you alert the driver?"

Mike nodded and tapped the window.

Adrienne smiled as the window came down and the driver turned an ear back. "Excuse me? Can you return us to Tokyo? We'd like to go to Dene-."

"Denenchofu," I piped in, helping the elder Hispanic woman with her confusion of the Japanese name.

"Yes Mrs. Armstrong," the bilingual driver replied and the window rolled up after him.

"I can't believe all this earthquake shit," Billie muttered and I watched him cross his arms. "Man, I can only begin to think how much this is going to set back our Canadian tour dates."

I listened intently to the words of the man I had examined to have green eyes. Not fully understanding what this tour business was he spoke of, I had opted to not question it. I was always so proper like that; sometimes it got old for me.

"Beverley, don't you have any family that'll be worrying about you?" Adrienne asked with concern as her husband linked his arm around hers.

"No, not here, my family all live in Alabama," I replied. "I would like to tell them I'm alright though."

"Oh, that explains the accent," a blonde-headed Mike laughed at me.

I flared my nostrils and looked at him clueless. Shrugging my shoulders I turned to look at Tre, sleeping -in a sitting stance -so close to me I could smell the dry blood fuming off his t-shirt. I fell quiet after Mike Dirnt's comment about my accent, but not for reason of self-esteem issues. I was quiet because I wanted to keep a watchful eye on the man I had found trapped beneath a bar in the decadent lounge of the Westin Tokyo Hotel. At first, my looks were out of pure innocence and concern, but as I studied him further I could not help but pinpoint his muscular arms. They were very appealing to me, but when it came down to me being honest about my true feelings, there was guilt nestled in with my attraction to the man I knew only formally as Tré Cool.

I felt I could almost assure myself, that Edward had been killed in the hype of the earthquake. It was a scary thought for me, but all the same I fell back into my reality.

"Ma'am, you're next."

Beverley raised her head from the floor and she began a short stroll towards the counter in the generic looking Bank of America Center. Her blue heels making a quiet clunking sound with each step, she stopped in front of a brunette accountant.

"Hello, how may I help you?" the brunette inquired.

"Hi, my name is Beverley Sampson, I've recently just moved back here, to San Francisco from Tokyo, Japan and I want to inquire about the status of my account," Beverley said, placing her elbows up on the counter. "I tried to withdraw some money from a bank machine this morning and it told me I wasn't authorized or whatever."

"Alright Mrs. Sampson, do you have I.D.?" the brunette asked.

"Yes, of course," Beverley replied, and she began rummaging through her purse. "Hmm...here we are." The young blonde pulled out her wallet and set down two pieces of identification, one her driver's license and the other, her debit card. "Will that be enough?"

"Yes ma'am," the brunette replied and she began typing something into her computer.

Beverley began twirling her fingers in her hair as she awaited the accountant to fill her head with the information she needed about her money. That was the money that was going to help her survive. It was the money that was going to ensure she could get her practice back up and running and wouldn't have to move back to Luverne and bum off her parents.

"Okay so it's a joint checking account you share with a Mr. Edward Sampson. Is that your husband?" the brunette accountant inquired.

"Yes, but I'm widowed. Edward died on June 2nd in the Japan earthquake," Beverley explained.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," the accountant said and she returned to looking at her computer screen. "That's funny..."

"What?" Beverley said raising her eyebrows and pulling her fingers out of her thick blonde locks.

"It says in our database that Mr. Sampson froze the account assets on August 5th, 2008," the accountant explained.

"What, my account been frozen? That was only yesterday, something must be wrong!" Beverley exclaimed. "Where the heck was it frozen from?"

"It says here that the assets were frozen by Edward Sampson on August, 5th 2008 from The Bank of Tokyo Mitsubishi. That's odd. Hmm...just give me a few minutes and I'll give them a call and see what's going on," the brunette explained and she walked away.

Beverley stepped back from the counter slowly and grabbed her head of hair with stress. "Oh my God," she muttered. Her heart pounded her chest to the point of paining her and she could not help but let her thoughts reencounter Edward and that time in her life.

I stepped into my house, feeling distraught by the sight of the way things were and the mental images of the way they had once been. This house was beautiful at a time, but now the furniture and all the keepsakes I had from my grandmother, Angie Feldman, were upside down in a china cabinet.

I looked around the dining room first, as four acquaintances helped Tré Cool into the living room to sit him down on the couch. I swallowed back a lump in my throat and without word I stumbled into the master bedroom I had shared with my husband. Where was Edward, I thought without thought. Why should I even care, I was going to have our marriage annulled anyways. I felt cold, and not temperature-wise.

"Beverley?" a woman's voice called out.

I knew it must have been Adrienne, for she was the only other woman in the house. I didn't answer right away my thoughts were transfixed as I looked around the room for a few brief moments, eyeing Edward's dirty laundry tossed everywhere carelessly. I reminisced on our marriage and I truly began to see how this was the end of an era, one where I didn't make any of the decisions in my life or even where I lived. I knew I didn't want to live in Tokyo, I never really had. Edward had made that decision and I simply went along with it, for I was a proper girl whom was over stimulated with education.

"Beverley?"

I nodded my head and towed back out into the living room before finding myself standing before five new faces. "Did you call me?" I inquired, looking to Adrienne whom sat on a recliner whilst Billie sat on the arm.

"Yeah," she replied. "I was wondering if you have anything to drink."

I nodded. "Yeah, yes I do. Are you thirsty? I know I am."

"Yeah, very," the beautiful Hispanic woman replied me. "I think Tré's getting a bit dehydrated as well."

"Would he like to lye down on my bed?" I offered.

"I would love to lye down on your bed," Tré said just as he came around. "Will you lye down with me?"

"Excuse me?" I said, my eyes growing wide at his insinuation.

"Where are we?" he asked, sitting up off the couch slowly.

"You're at my house," I replied crossing my arms.

"Cool, but why?"

"Tré man, the airport's closed. Once they reopen it, we're going to take you to the hospital in China," Billie said, and right there Beverley could see he was almost like the leader of this group of people. "We're staying here until we can leave."

"Ow, the tour's all screwy now," Tré whined.

"I know, it doesn't matter though, your health is way more important," Billie Joe replied before turning to me. "What are you going to do?"

He was right. What was I going to do? My home was a complete disaster and I didn't feel up to the challenge of trying to fix it all. I would have to take the money and run, leave all this all behind and move back to America. It wasn't worth it to me and neither were my patients. I felt like being selfish for once and putting me and my wants before the rest of the world.

"I don't know," I lied.

"Not to make your life my business, but you really have to do something," Billie Joe said to me and I saw an aura of life experiences within his eyes.

"Yes, I know," I replied and I began to walk out of the room towards the kitchen. "How 'bout those drinks, hey?"

"Mrs. Sampson, I just spoke with the manager at The Bank of Tokyo Mitsubishi and he told me Mr. Sampson was in his office the other day discussing investment opportunities in The Orient. I don't really understand what all this confusion is, if your husband is in fact deceased," the brunette accountant said.

"My fucking god, my dead husband's looking at investments in the middle east?" Beverley said, smacking herself across the forehead. "What the hell is wrong with you people? I just suffered the most traumatic ordeal of my life, now you're telling me my dead fucking husband walked into a bank in Tokyo and froze my fucking bank account? Does that make any fucking sense or does that make me fucking broke?"

"Ma'am, please control the decibel of your voice," the accountant warned.

"No! I will not! I'm a fucking doctor, my husband was a neurosurgeon! There should be fifteen mill. sitting in that goddam account and you're telling me I can't touch it!" Beverley cried.

"Mrs. Sampson, I will call security if you do not contain yourself."

Beverley inhaled a deep breath before letting it out with slow mustered frustration. "Look, let's say my husband was alive like you're telling me he is, which he very well may be. Even if he was, what gives him the power to freeze the assets of a joint account?"

"I have right here in my computer, that you and Mr. Sampson signed a legal document stating that he was to be the sole sovereignty of the account and all assets that were being deposited or withdrawn," the brunette explained. "You signed that contract right here, in this very bank, on January 17th, 2005."

"The day after our wedding..." Beverley murmured.

"Pardon?" the brunette questioned.

"I have to go," Beverley said rashly. Grabbing up her I.D., the blue-eyed Alabaman marched out onto California Street, making for her little red rental car. "Jesus Christ," she muttered incoherently to herself.

Speeding off, Beverley drove back to a hotel she had been frequenting in The Haight of San Francisco; this was her place to stay whilst she looked for a house to buy. Although that might be slight problem now that her money was inaccessible, she couldn't even afford to keep her transportation let alone her hotel room.

Screaming out in frustration, proper and never feisty Beverley kicked a hole in the wall of this four star hotel room. She stood back slowly, realizing she was letting her emotions get the best of her. The blonde woman tried to sort her thoughts so she could figure out what she needed to do. Beverley sat down on the double bed of her hotel room and eyed the telephone on her night table. She would simply have to call her parents, they would wire her some money and help her get back to Alabama, she thought. She bit her lip, trying to think clearly about what she wanted to say before placing the call.

Picking the phone up, Beverley sniffled back tears that had come without her notice. Reading simple phoning instructions that had been taped above the keypad, Beverley called the office.

"Hi, I'd like to make a collect call..."

"We have to take him to the hospital," Billie Joe told me.

"Bevvy, come to Beijing with us, please?" Tré begged as he lay on my bed with everyone gathered around.

"I can't. Everything I own is here! HERE, IN GOD DAMN FUCKING JAPAN! FUCK EDWARD!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "I can't leave....I can't leave and I'm so scared."

"Beverley, if you don't leave here I won't go either," Tré told me.

"You have to," I said. "You're at risk for a stroke and everything else with your injury."

"Tré man, it's her choice," Mike said, and I eyed him through drenched eyes. He was an attractive man as well, tall and very athletic looking.

"It's not my choice. Nothing's my choice," I corrected him.

"Oh."

"Look, I'm having a major financial crisis here," Beverley sobbed into the phone's mouthpiece.

"Honey, just relax," a sixty-four-year-old Elaina Feldman said soothingly. "You've had a rough couple of months."

"Mama, I'm so scared. I don't know what to do, I've never felt this way before," Beverley said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Bevvy honey, I don't know what to do either. Your father's been having problems with the farm. The bank wants to repossess everything we have because our mortgage payments are through the roof. And then there're bills..." Elaina explained.

"Please mama, give me some suggestions," Beverley begged. She closed her eyes, waiting for the wise words of her mother. She waited and waited. She waited and waited. "Mama..."

Elaina sighed into the phone quietly. "Dear, you've just lost your husband and now your practice and you're living out of a hotel. Maybe you should have stayed in Tokyo. Your father and I don't have any money to spare."

"Mama, Edward's alive," Beverley cried.

"Pardon?"

"They told me in the bank that Edward froze our assets from our bank in Tokyo. He has control of all the money. My money!" Beverley shrieked.

"Oh dear."

"Please don't tell me that you can't help me mama," Beverley said, in her subtle Alabaman tongue. "I'm going to get kicked out of my hotel suite tomorrow because I can't even pay for today. And then the rental place is going to take my Pontiac and I'm not even going to be able to drive anywhere."

"Oh Bevvy honey, I want to be able to help you so bad," Elaina said, and she began to cry.

"Mama please don't be upset," Beverley said. "Just pray for me, because I know Jesus will help me get out of this mess somehow. He will, mama..."

"Billie, your mother and the boys are desperate to see us, we have to go," Adrienne said, nudging the man I now knew to be her husband.

"Tré please leave. I already rescued you, don't kill yourself now by staying here. My efforts are pointless if you stay. And it doesn't matter if I die, it's not like I have children to live for," I chastised.

"Bevvy, it does matter! I won't sit idle while you stay here waiting to die!" Tré shrieked and for the first time I heard trauma in his voice. His bottom lip quivered with emotion.

"Please..." I said.

"Fine," he answered. He sat up slowly on the bed and pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his Versace pantsuit he'd been wearing for some days. "Anyone have a pen?"

"Yeah, I do," Billie said and he walked over to Tré and handed it to him. "Never know when new lyrics might pop into your head."

I watched Tré take the pen and he jotted something down. He slowly extended his arm and I slowly walked over to him, staring at his arm with tears streaming down my face.

"What is it?" I muttered.

He took my hand and placed a piece of paper in my palm as he looked me in the eyes, whispering something only for my ears.

The acquaintances took Tré Cool outside and helped him into a waiting cab thereafter. I watched from the window as they drove away without me.

Green Day had stayed with me for five days and four nights before they finally caught a flight to Beijing. I thought I would never see them again. I thought I would never see that man I had rescued again. That man I had learned to be but cared less about being a rock star. I had only his words in my mind like a whisper echoing on the wind.

And I would never forget them.

"If you ever need rescuing...to catch the call, you I'll be there."