A Ballad For Beulah

Mike's hands hadn't moved from Beulah except to subconsciously migrate from around her waist to just barely touching the curve of her hips as he looked at her in surprise and mild shock.

And shock at himself for having been so aroused by her movements.

After all, this was Beulah. He wasn't supposed to get aroused by her, even though there was that one wet dream about a year ago...but that's another story for another time.

"Beulah?" Mike repeated, taking off his mask and trying to sit up as she scrambled to her feet, obviously embarrassed.

"Oh, God," she groaned. "I never wanted you to see me like this. It made her best attempt at covering herself up, because the pink negligee she wore was a little more than revealing. "I can't believe I---with you, and...omigod," she grimaced, looking as if she wanted to throw up.

Furrowing his brow and trying to form words, Mike leaned forward, looking her in the face. "Beulah, why are you working here? What happened to the restaurant?"

"I got demoted, so to speak. And, desperate times call for desperate measures, and I was always told I was a pretty good dancer with a face no one could turn away, so I thought---"

"Stripping was your best option?"

"No," she shook her head, looking down at her feet. "But I wasn't looking for the best option. I was just looking for anything."

Mike reached out his hand and gestured for her to sit down beside him. She hesitated, her eyes falling to the spot he patted with his hand. But, she then moved forward and sank down beside him, crossing her legs and folding her arms over her chest.

"Why the desperation? Is the money Billie sending not enough?"

"Ha. What money?"

"He's not sending anything?"

Beulah shrugged. "It's not that he isn't sending anything. It's just...less than usual and it takes forever to get here. And, in the meantime, I'm trying to really scrimp and save. And with being knocked down to part time, and with my landlord hiking the rent a hundred bucks more and my car insurance rate is higher because of a stupid fender bender that wasn't even my fault..." she rambled nervously. "I-I...I just couldn't allow myself to fail Bailey and have us living in squalor. And I didn't want to have to beg Billie for more or anything. Not that he'd answer his phone long enough to talk to me. I mean, I already tried it and he turned me away and hung up."

Mike could see in her eyes that she was getting a little emotional. She formed a tightlipped expression to hold back the tears that were fighting to come out and play, so to speak.

"I...I drove all the way to San Antonio and then went to the SBC Center the day you guys were playing there. I was parked right outside with Bailey and I called...I called Billie. And he said he couldn't see me, he couldn't talk. 'Cause Adrienne was there, and he got a little mad 'cause I'd sprung that on him, but I didn't know what else to do. I was at wit's end."

Beulah leaned forward, resting her face in her hands, her elbows now planted on her legs as she lurched slightly with a sob.

"I don't know what else to do anymore," she cried.

Mike was bouncing back and forth between feeling sympathy for Beulah and contempt for Billie Joe as he watched her begin to cry like a little girl who's puppy had just been run over.

Eight times.

Slowly, Mike wrapped his right around her back and pulled her against his side, and without having to be told or asked, Beulah turned to face him and bury her face in his chest, crying a hearty cry that tore his heart up. He snaked his other arm around her to hold her close against him, placing his cheek atop her head before kissing the top of her head for a brief moment.

"You're gonna be fine, Beulah," he assured as best as possible.

"How...how do you know that?" she sobbed.

"Because you are one of the strongest women I know. You do anything it takes to survive, and you'll survive anything and everything life throws at you because that's just who you are. Life gives you lemons, you make lemonade and then you go that extra mile and make a weird, little necklace out of the leftover rinds."

"But how can you know I won't just decide to give up this time?" she questioned, lifting her teary face that caused the light amount of mascara she was wearing to run down her cheeks. "I'm so tired of fighting for everything. I'm tired of struggling. I just want everything to stop hurting so much and being so hard."

Mike felt tears stinging his own eyes as he held her gaze while lifting his hands to cup her face.

"You'll survive because I'm gonna make sure you do," he replied. "I won't let you just give up. Okay?" he spoke as his thumb brush a strand of hair out of her face. "I promise...anything you need, anything you want, don't you hesitate for a second to call me. If I can, I will drop whatever I'm doing to come here to Vegas to make sure you are doing okay. And not just okay; doing better."

Beulah looked up at him with a quivering chin as she swallowed back a lump in her throat.

"Why do you care so much?"

Mike couldn't help but flash her a smirk. "Someone's got to. Why not me, right?"

"Won't Brittney see that as a problem?"

"There is no Brittney and me anymore, so, no. No problem."

"What hap---"

"It's not important right now," he cut her off. "What's important is seeing that you get on your feet and never have to be scared about struggling again."

Biting her lip, Beulah tried not to smile. "But I haven't done anything for you to help me. I didn't ask, and I---"

"Asking isn't always verbal. It's the things you do, the way you look at someone, the way you move. Body language is just as talkative."

She let out a shaky laugh. "What's my body saying?"

"It's not saying anything. It's screaming." Tilting his head, he watched as she nonchalantly leaned into his hands and sighed. "How long have you been working here?"

"Four weeks," she replied, her eyes staring at his shoulders rather nonchalantly.

"Four weeks is long enough, I think." Smirking, he moved one of his hands down to her shoulder and steadied her face so that she was looking right at him. "When you leave this room tonight, you're gonna go to that Harold Zidler-esque club owner and tell him to take this job and shove it, understand?"

Slowly, Beulah nodded her head.

"Good," Mike smiled softly. "After you do that, I'm gonna take you out to get a drink, because you clearly need one," he added as she laughed. "Not that I'm trying to get you drunk and advocate drinking as the solution to life's problems, but sometimes, a good drink helps relax you."

"You don't have to---"

"I want to," he interrupted her. "You need some time for yourself, and if you're here, you obviously have a babysitter for Bailey, right?"

Beulah nodded. "Evelyn. She used to be my neighbor a few years ago. She just loves Bailey."

"And who wouldn't? He's an adorable, well-mannered kid. Any other kid raised by a struggling single mother would be a fucking little bastard and really unruly, but see? I told you: you're a fighter, and you're strong. You've done right with Bailey," Mike complimented. "He's lucky to have you for a mother."

Gradually, Mike stood up, helping Beulah to her feet as well. And yes, he was truthfully concerned for her and meant everything he'd said to her this evening, but he also couldn't deny that a part of him was still a little aroused by her.

He wondered if she knew just how lovely she was.

Or if anyone had ever really told her as much.

"Thank you, Mike...for...everything. Tonight. All those other times you'd just talk with me. No one ever just talks with me. Talk at me, maybe. Talk down, talk about..."

Placing his hand on the small of her back, Mike smiled at her and leaned forward, kissing her gently on the lips. Not that he was trying to put the moves on her. It wasn't like that at all. Okay, maybe a part of him, deep down, wanted to kiss her in that way, but he really just wanted to kiss her to help her take her mind off all the sad things she was thinking and feeling.

To show her not everyone in her life had to be an asshole.

And to say the least, the kiss caught her off guard.

But before she could react or even return the favor, Mike had pulled away, a warm smile dangling from his lips, telling her to just shut up for a moment.

"Now, go quit your job."

As she fumbled for words, she nodded. "O-okay," she answered as if snapping out of a daydream.

Mike opened the VIP room door for her and gestured for her to exit first.

"I'll wait for you outside," he informed her.

"Okay," Beulah repeated as she dipped her head and began to slowly leave the room and walk down the hallway.

As she did show, Mike watched the sway of her hips; a part of him growling like an animal. Yet, he also thought about how sad her eyes looked, and it made him wonder why in the hell anyone, namely Billie Joe, would treat her like anything but a lovely woman.

* * *

A little after two in the morning, Mike was driving a slightly tipsy Beulah home in her car, and they were chatting away the entire time, but eventually the ride became so relaxing that Beulah began to drift off to sleep, leaning her head against the window. Mike looked over at her a few times, smirking at how peaceful she looked.

When they pulled up to her apartment complex, he parked the car, turned off the engine and hopped out as quietly as possible. Walking around to her side, he opened her door, unhooked her seatbelt for her and began to scoop her up in his arms like he had a couple of years ago when she fell asleep on her couch.

Carrying her in his arms, it may have looked a little weird to a bystander. Like, "Why the hell is that guy carrying that woman?"

But it was simply a gesture of friendship. Affection.

Then again, this was Las Vegas. People probably saw this sort of thing on a nightly basis.

Opening the front door to her apartment building was a bit of a bitch and so was walking up a flight of stairs, but Mike managed. He was a pretty strong guy; he was able to handle it.

When they reached her apartment door, he didn't know which key unlocked it and he didn't want to wake Beulah up, so he knocked on the door with his foot.

After a moment, Evelyn opened the door, looking at Mike with questioning eyes.

"She fell asleep on the ride home," he explained. "I didn't want to wake her."

"You're Billie Joe's tall, handsome friend, aren't you? Yeah, I remember you. Come in, come in."

Evelyn stepped out of the way for Mike to step inside, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Billie Joe sitting on the couch, staring up at him with suspicious eyes.

"Went to a Strip Club, huh?" Billie Joe muttered. "Bullshit."

The green eyed guitarist stood up and grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch, throwing it on in a swift movement.

"What are you doing here at two-thirty in the morning?" Mike wondered.

"What am I doing here? What the fuck are you doing here?" Billie Joe threw back.

Mike glowered and narrowed his eyes. "Shut up," he hissed. "You'll fucking wake her up."

"Both of you shut the fuck up," Evelyn stepped in. "There's a little boy asleep too, and frankly, I don't think Beulah would appreciate you two arguing over who's here and who's not while her son's trying to sleep. But, since you're both here, and so is she, will one of you tell her Bailey was fine and that I left?"

"Sure," Mike and Billie Joe responded at the same time, causing them to look at each other.

Evelyn shook her head and sighed. "If either of you do anything to upset Beulah, I will personally break your necks," she threatened as she grabbed her purse. "And my husband may be sixty, but he's a former heavyweight and will drop you both like flies."

With that, Evelyn gave them a smile and walked out of the apartment. Mike stepped right by his best friend and headed toward Beulah's room.

"Where are you going?" Billie Joe questioned.

Mike turned his head and looked at the older man as if he were stupid. "To put her to bed."

Billie Joe simply harumphed and folded his arms across his chest as Mike continued on his way toward Beulah's room where he gently laid her down on her bed. Without trying to wake her, Mike slid her shoes off her feet and set them on the floor, then pulled one of her blankets up over her just as she finally stirred awake.

"Where am I?" she asked, a little confused by her surroundings.

"You're home. You fell asleep in the car so I carried you up," Mike answered, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Evelyn said Bailey was fine and she just left."

"Oh...okay. I didn't get to pay her, though."

Mike smirked. "I don't think she was really looking for payment. I think she sees you as a daughter, so watching Bailey for you is probably like watching her own grandchild."

"Makes sense," Beualh muttered, sleepily. "She never had kids."

"Well, there you go," Mike remarked with a smile, smoothing out the blanket he'd draped over her.

"Mike?"

"Hmm?"

Beulah sat up a little bit and without any warning, she wrapped an arm around his neck and brought his lips against hers in a kiss that was a great deal deeper than the one he'd given her at the club.

And, call it pure human instinct, but Mike was no fool.

He returned the kiss, snaking an arm around her waist and leaning down against her a little as her other arm went around his neck. And when her soft fingers began to run through the hair on the back of his head, he just about purred like a cat.

Her tongue slipped past his lips, grazing his teeth until he allowed her better access so that she could discover the cavern of his mouth, while he did the same.

And when the kiss -- and what a kiss it was -- came to an end, Mike pulled away and looked down at Beulah with wonder in his blue eyes.

"What was that for?" he inquired, trying to catch his breath a little.

Her drowsy eyelids fluttered up and down, slowly, as she sank back down to her bed, her head resting gently on her pillow as she turned her body slightly and smiled.

"For sweeping me off my feet," she answered with a yawn.

Smiling down at her, Mike pushed her hair away from her face. "It was nothing," he insisted.

"No, it was something," Beulah insisted. "The only time anyone ever carried me was when I was a little kid."

"Well, you're not a kid anymore," he replied. "You're a woman. And a beautiful one who deserves the finer things in life, at that."

"Sounds nice," she mumbled as she slowly began to drift back to sleep. "Will you stay?"

"Until you fall asleep?"

She shook her head. "No. Right here. All night."

"I don't think I shou---"

"Please?" she continued to ask in a small voice that made it impossible for him to deny.

"Okay," he caved. "Just...let me go check on something, first, alright?"

Beulah nodded as he stood up, causing the bed to spring upward a bit with his weight leaving the mattress. Stepping from the room, he found that Billie Joe was still there.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Mike spoke up before Billie Joe had the chance to get whiny about what might be going on.

"Just so you know, you have a lot of nerve insinuating anything," he began. "I did go to a strip club, and in case you cared, that's where Beulah was working until tonight. And when she saw me, she got embarrassed and when I asked why she was working there, she opened up and it was like the fucking Hoover Dam was split down the middle. She told me a lot about what you've done and, more importantly, haven't done. And I want you to know that you are the biggest asshole I know for treating her like just some fuck buddy instead of the mother of your fucking son. Illegitimate or not, Billie, he's your fucking son."

"I know he's my fucking son, you prick," Billie Joe shot back.

"I'm the prick? I'm not the one who got shitfaced and practically forced myself up Beulah's ass!" Mike growled.

Billie Joe's eyes widened.

"Yeah, that's right, Billie. After we left that strip club, I took Beulah out for a drink so she could calm her nerves a bit because she was really stressed and depressed. And she told me everything." The look in Mike's eyes was a little intimidating as he stared his shorter friend down. "You don't deserve to even know her, let alone lay your hands on her in any way. And, before I say anything further that could jeopardize our friendship, I suggest you head back to the hotel," Mike spoke with a deadpan expression. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"And what are you going to do?" Billie Joe questioned, a little nervous.

"Stay the night. And no, not like that," Mike added, already knowing what Billie Joe might be thinking. "She asked me to stay, mostly because I don't think she wants to be alone, and because she and I are friends."

Billie Joe's green eyes were stinging with tears as he looked down at the floor. "I never meant to be like this..."

"You don't mean to do a lot of things, Bill, but sometimes you still end up doing them."

The two of them were silent for what seemed like forever until Billie Joe backed up and headed toward the apartment door.

"Tell Beulah I'll be by in the morning to see Bailey once he's awake," he told his friend.

"Fine."

"And, Mike...don't think for a second that I don't love Bailey," the green eyed punk rocker added, his voice cracking. "'Cause I love him so damn much."

"I don't doubt you do, man," Mike replied. "Just go back to the hotel."

Billie Joe nodded. "Okay. Alright...I-I'll go. But I'll be back tomorrow."

"I'm not stoppin' you."

Meeting each other's gaze, Billie Joe then looked away and slipped out of the apartment without another word.

Letting out a strangled sigh, Mike went to the door, made sure it was locked and then turned off the living room lights before making his way back to Beulah's room.

She was still awake when he returned, but just barely.

Smiling at her, he walked around to the other side of the bed and kicked his shoes off, then pulled off his shirt and sank down onto her bed. And to say he was nervous would be an understatement.

Granted he was only going to be sleeping with her and not sleeping with her, it was still a bit weird. But also strangely enticing.

Slipping under the covers, he rolled over onto his side and watched with curious eyes as Beulah turned over to face him. She wrapped an arm around his waist and placed her head on his arm which he placed under her neck.

The two of them just laid like that, with Mike watching her until she fell asleep.