A Ballad For Beulah

It was by chance that Beulah happened upon the Video Music Awards Pre-Show on MTV. She was aware that the awards show in itself began at 5, Pacific Standard Time, but she'd forgotten about the pre-show and the arrivals of all the singers, bands, rappers, presenters...

But there it was, on her television screen, staring her in the face.

The guys being chauffeured up the red carpet in a beat up, green Cadillac, with Billie Joe sitting on top of the front, passenger seat while Tre and Mike sat on top of the back seats.

Her heart about jumped into her throat because, for the first time, she wasn't just looking at Billie Joe. Maybe it was because of how curt he'd been with her the Sunday before, but the father of her son just didn't seem as appealing at the moment.

When Bailey came walking into the room, she turned the channel. He was really just passing through, asking his mom where a certain toy was. When she told him she put it back in his toy trunk the day before, he frowned and went back into his room.

Beulah then flipped back to MTV to watch the show but, by that point, the guys were no longer on screen.

She continued to watch the Pre-Show off and on, but closer to five, she got distracted with making dinner for her and Bailey, so she ended up leaving the station on.

She didn't remember until she was ready to put their dinner on the table and Bailey called to her from the living room.

"Mommy! Daddy's on the TV with Mr. Tre and Uncle Mike!"

Beulah stopped what she was doing looked up, staring at the kitchen cupboards before turning her body and walking out into the living room to stand beside her son, who was pointing eagerly at the television.

And, sure as shit, there was Billie Joe with Mike and Tre, accepting the award for Best Rock Group.

"Does daddy know Mr. Tre?"

"Uh, yeah," Beulah replied. "They're, uh...friends. They work together with Uncle Mike."

Dayum, she thought as her eyes lingered away from Billie Joe, but she shook it off.

"I didn't know Mr. Tre was daddy's friend," Bailey continued, seemingly happy to see his father on the television again, since he couldn't see him in person. After all, it had been almost six months since he'd been able to.

"Well, c'mon, honey. Dinner's ready."

"But I wanna see daddy," Bailey whined.

"This show is gonna be on for a while. If you get your dinner out of the way, you can watch the rest of it," she promised, planning on unplugging the TV when he wasn't looking and pretending the cable went out when he tried to return to watching because she didn't want him to see Billie Joe in the audience with---

"Mommy?"

"Hmm?"

"Who was the lady with the weird hair daddy kissed on the TV?" Bailey wondered, taking a seat at the table, lifting up his fork.

"What lady?" she asked cautiously.

"The pretty lady with the dark hair that looked like she had lotsa snarls."

"Dreadlocks?"

Bailey shrugged, digging into his plate of spaghetti. "Dunno. She had a black dress and," he spoke as he leaned forward as if to whisper a secret, "I could almost see her thingies," he added, pointing to his chest.

Beulah couldn't help but smile at her son's innocence. Leaning forward as she took a seat, she brushed his wavy hair out of his face. She knew she'd have to tell her son the truth sooner or later.

Might as well do it now.

Taking a deep breath, Beulah lifted her own fork, watching how the spaghetti noodles sloshed around Bailey's mouth as he sucked them in, one at a time.

"Honey, there's some things I need you to know about your daddy, and his life. I'm not sure if you'll be able to understand, but I think you're getting old enough where you can know."

"Know what?"

"When Mommy and Daddy made you, Daddy was feeling a little sick. And he was a little confused about what he wanted."

"What did he want?"

Beulah shrugged this time. "I still don't know that," she answered, but then continued. "Daddy was married. He had a wife, and her name is Adrienne. Now, Daddy and Adrienne were having some big fights and he showed up at my work and we talked a lot because we hadn't seen each other in a long time." She paused, making sure her son was registering what she'd said so far. "And then Daddy and I made you, but he didn't know about it."

"How come he didn't know?"

"Because I didn't tell him. I was a little scared," she admitted. "I was young, and Daddy still loved his wife."

"Adrienne?"

"Yes," she muttered, feeling weird that her son was saying Adrienne's name, yet, not. Licking her lips, she set down her fork and folded her hands on the table. "Daddy didn't first meet you until you were about a year old. He came here with Uncle Mike and your daddy was a little angry, at first. But, then he fell in love with you," she smiled, touching her hand to his cheek. "But he couldn't stay long. He promised to send us some money so we didn't have to struggle and he promised to visit as much as possible."

"Is he still gonna visit?" Bailey interrupted.

"He's gonna try," she told him. "But...your daddy has tried these last couple of years to see you, and he's even called you on the phone."

"He doesn't call a lot," the four and a half year old muttered, shaking his head. "And who are...Joey and Jakob?" he questioned. "Daddy said their names on the TV."

"Well..." God, where did she begin? "See, Daddy's still married to Adrienne, and before you were born, they had two sons. Joey's the oldest. And then there's Jakob."

"Are they, like...my brothers?"

Beulah nodded. "Half-brothers. You have the same daddy as them."

Bailey's face lit up like a spotlight. "I have brothers?"

"Yeap."

"How old are they?"

"Um, Joey's ten and Jakob's gonna be seven."

"How come...how come daddy comes here and kisses you but not like he kissed Adrienne on the TV. How come he kisses different?"

Oh, shit, is he ever full of questions.

"Because...he, uh...he cares for us in different ways."

"Does he care he about my brothers different than me?"

"Of course not. He loves and cares about you just the same."

Bailey frowned suddenly. "But if he cared about me the same, then why didn't he say my name on TV, too? Did he forget?"

Looking at her son, studying the contours of his face, she shook her head. "No, he didn't forget," she replied.

But that reply didn't satisfy her son, who's eyes seemed like they wanted to spurt tears at any moment. "Then he didn't want to," he pouted. Pushing his plate away, he folded his arms across his chest and dipped his chin down. "He doesn't love me like them."

"Bailey," she muttered, reaching out to touch her little boy's shoulder. "Your daddy does love you. But...when daddy, Uncle Mike and Mr. Tre get awards and they have to go up on stage to get them, they're only given a little bit of time to say everything they want to say...and, uh..." she trailed, groping for an excuse. "He just didn't have enough time to say, '...and Bailey. I love you so much.'"

"Whatever. I'm not hungry," Bailey continued to pout. "Can I go play in my room?"

Beulah frowned and nodded. "Yeah."

She watched as Bailey slid off his chair and sauntered off to his room with his shoulder hunched and it broke her heart.

Shaking her head, she leaned an elbow on the table, covered her mouth with her hand and took a deep breath.

"Billie, you asshole. You're gonna lose your son..."

* * *

September came and went and Billie Joe hadn't called, except for leaving a brief message on the answering machine, sometime when she was at one of her jobs.

And yes, you read that right.

Jobs.

Plural.

See, the thing was that this one bitch that Beulah worked with at the MGM Grand restaurant who had only one year of seniority over her, filed a complaint against Beulah that she hit her, and seeing as this bitch in question was also best friends with the manager, Beulah was more or less given the option of taking a severe cut in her pay by going down to part time, or leaving her job all together.

And, given that Beulah needed her job, she was more than willing to feel degraded and take part-time hours over none at all. But that meant she needed another job until she could find a full-time one that would keep her from being out on the streets.

Yet, she was so determined to make sure life was just fine for Bailey that it didn't matter what extra job it was. She'd take the first one that came to her.

And she did.

* * *

On October 6th, Green Day was in Vegas for a concert at the Thomas Mack. As soon as they finished, they headed backstage and were all generally in a good mood, but there was a sort of unspoken truth between all three of them.

With one look to his friend and drummer, Billie Joe had become aware that Tre knew about Beulah and Bailey.

But how?

He looked over at Mike, and part of him wanted to place the blame with his best friend since the fifth grade. But he knew Mike. He knew he would take the secret to the grave is that's what Billie Joe asked of him.

Right?

Perhaps, making sure wouldn't hurt.

As they were heading to their bus which would take them to their hotel for the night, Billie Joe noticed Mike wasn't hopping on the bus. Catching up in the direction his lanky friend was headed, he grabbed his shoulder and quirked an eyebrow.

"Mike, wait up."

Mike turned, his hands stuffed in his pockets...as usual. "What?"

"Where ya going?"

"I need to take a walk. Or...catch a cab. Not really in the mood for heading back to the hotel just yet. But I'll catch up with you later, though."

As Mike began to turn away, Billie Joe moved so that he was blocking the bassist's way. "What's up your ass?"

"Nothing. What's up yours?"

Billie Joe stepped back and studied his friend's face. "Is this about Britt?"

"A little," Mike replied briefly. "Why don't you go on back to the bus with Tre. Better yet, why not go visit your fucking kid? You haven't seen him since March. I mean, he's young, his brain ain't as up to speed as an adult. He might have forgotten all about you," Mike snipped. "Go refresh you son's memory that he has a father."

Without another word, Mike stalked off, not even completely sure why he was so angry at Billie Joe. Well, okay, it bothered him incredibly that the first thing that should be on Billie Joe's mind when coming to Vegas should be seeing Bailey and nothing else.

Sometimes Mike thought Billie Joe didn't truly believe that Bailey was his and that perhaps that was the guitarist's way of reasoning. His way of making an excuse for being as absent as possible, it seemed.

Having left Billie Joe to stew in his thoughts there in the parking area, outside where their bus was, Mike walked a little toward a less vacant area along the side of the street where fans wouldn't be able to get to when leaving the Thomas Mack.

Mike hailed a cab and told the driver to take him to the most tasteful strip joint in all of Vegas. And he stressed that it shouldn't be raunchy. He didn't want raunchy. He just wanted...well, something tasteful.

* * *

Billie Joe grumbled all the way up to Beulah's apartment.

Fucking Mike.

He was planning on seeing Bailey the following day, when they had the day off, but Mike had to go and jump down his throat for no reason, making him feel extra guilty.

And, well, let's face it. He was feeling guilty already. He really did want to see his son, but it was just a little awkward because every time Bailey looked at him and then saw how Beulah looked at him, it made him feel even more guilty.

Sometimes it was just easier on his conscience if it was all out of sight, out of mind.

Reaching the apartment door, he knocked once. Then twice. And when it opened, he raised an eyebrow in confusion.

A middle-aged woman answered the door. And she looked really familiar.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Uh...aren't you, um...Evelyn or something? Beulah's old neighbor. I mean---not old as in elderly...uh, I mean...as in, um, former."

Evelyn nodded and smirked. "Yes, I'm that Evelyn. Can I help you? Are you looking for Beulah?"

"Actually, yeah. I'm, um, Bailey's dad...and I know it's late but I was hoping to see him."

Evelyn shrugged and stepped out of the way. "Come in," she muttered. "I remember you from the first time you came to see Bailey. Almost five years ago, I believe. Beulah told me about it before you and your tall, handsome friend came inside."

"Did she now?" Billie Joe smiled a little. "Is that a good or bad thing?"

"Any father who wants to see his son...that's a good thing. Men who don't care edgewise...they don't deserve the title."

Billie Joe grimaced as he looked around the living room. "Is Beulah here?"

"No, she's...working."

"Oh," the green eyed punk rocker muttered, a little surprised. "She's working a new shift now? I didn't think the restaurant at the MGM was open at this time of night."

"It's not."

"Then, what---"

"Bailey's sleeping, but you're welcome to sit in his room and watch him for a while. Beulah won't be back for at least another two hours," Evelyn informed, cutting him off.

"Um, okay. Thanks, and, uh...it was nice seeing you again, I guess," he commented as he disappeared into his son's room.

When the door was shut, Evelyn rolled her eyes and sat down on the couch, while mumbling, "Asshole."

* * *

Mike strolled into The Masquerade; a new strip club that his cab driver promised was very tasteful and not cheap or raunchy.

The walls were lined in a soft pink material and a sort of Middle Eastern vibe that made the bassist think he was inside Jeanie's bottle from I Dream Of Jeanie. To his right was the bar that was lit up with pink lighting and he was pretty damned sure that after this night, if he never saw the color pink again, it would be too soon.

He found an empty seat toward the back, away from the stage, while having a pretty decent view of the pretty women taking their clothes off for the sake of horny men.

It was about twenty minutes into enjoying a few of the girls that came out and nursing his second glass of rum and coke, when the apparent owner of the establishment approached him.

"Hello, sir. My name is Wallace Bingham and I am the owner of this gentlemen's club and I'd like to welcome you personally," he began, grabbing Mike's attention. "You see, one of my bartenders recognized you when you came in and informed me that we had a famous rock star in our midst and I'd like to show you our welcome, by offering you a private lap dance on the house from one of our lovely ladies."

Mike was floored. "You shitting me?"

"I shit you not. But there's one catch."

"And that would be?"

"You must wear a mask in the private room, as will the lady attending to you. Hence the reasoning behind the club's name; The Masquerade."

Mike considered for a few months, then sat up straight, slapping his hands to his legs. "Sure. Why the hell not."

"Wonderful," Wallace Bingham grinned, reminding Mike of Harold Zilder from Moulin Rouge. All you need to do is go down that hall, and there are a number of rooms. There is only one VIP room. Just wait in there and one of my ladies will be right in."

Standing up, Mike took his drink with him as he nodded his thanks to Bingham, then heading down said hallway.

He found the VIP room without a problem, stepped in and then shut the door behind him. All there was in the room, was florescent pink lighting that made the obviously red walls look like hot cinnamon candy he was tempted to just lick. There was also the fuzzy pink couch in the center of the room and the fish tank behind it, whose bubbling proved to be very relaxing.

He spotted a mask on a hook by the door and gave it a once over before putting it on his face and sitting down on the couch.

And then, the door opened.

A young woman dressed in a pink, corseted negligee with black trim, and also wearing a mask, sauntered inside quite demurely.

"Hello," she said softly. "How are you this evening?"

"Very good," he replied.

"That's good," Mike could see her smile a smile that meant 'Hey this is just my job, don't get any mixed singles here, bub.'

As she turned on the music, she began to sway her generous hips as she neared him; plucking his drink out of his hands and going into an impromptu routine. If that made any sense.

She bent forward, giving him a view of her ass, snapped back up and moved to sit down his lap, slowly grinding against his crotch.

And Mike wasn't sure why, but something about her vibe seemed to excite him more than any of the other women who'd given him a lap dance before in strip clubs...all over the globe.

She was different. And he liked it.

Standing back up, she turned around, and sank back down into his lap so that she was now facing him. She returned to grinding against him while throwing her head back, puffing out her full chest and still moving to the beat of the sensual music pumping from the speakers in the room.

And speaking of pumping, the blood in Mike's body sure as hell wasn't headed anywhere else except right into his dick and it was hard to keep from getting too excited.

And just when he was sure his heart would explode, along with parts of him that were lower, the elastic band that kept the young woman's mask snapped off for no reason.

The surprise of it caused her to reach up quickly to grab for it, but it also meant she lost her balance and was about to fall backward off Mike's lap and onto to floor, most likely to land on her ass very ungracefully.

But Mike reacted in time, his arms reaching up and wrapping around her waist, pulling her closely up against him, just as the mask slid down her face and fell in between their bodies.

He just stared wide-eyed at her for what seemed like forever.

Oh, fuck.

"Beulah?!"