A Ballad For Beulah

At seven o'clock that same night, the black limo that had arrived at the Armstrong residence had just pulled up to the front of the Bellagio Hotel & Casino. It was like something out of a movie as the driver hopped out and walked around to the back door and opened it up, offering Adrienne a helping hand as she stepped out and looked at the front entrance.

And as the driver went to the trunk to pull out her small suitcase, Adrienne's chocolate eyes wasted no time in finding her husband standing a few feet away, taking a drag out of a cigarette he'd just brought up to his lips.

Billie Joe offered her a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. And speaking of eyes; was he ever a sight for sore ones.

Sure, he'd showered and shaved, but that didn't get rid of the dark circles around his eyes. Even the small compact of cover-up he had on his person didn't help to, well, cover them up.

He looked worn and tired.

And a little stressed.

"Hey baby," Adrienne smiled back, relieved to see her husband, finally.

Taking one last, quick drag from his cigarette, Billie Joe flicked it to the ground and then stomped it out with his foot as he walked up to his wife and took her hand in his. "Hey to you, too, Minnesota Girl," he replied, bringing his lips to her cheek.

As they pulled away, Adrienne made a face. "Ugh, did you bathe in your cologne?"

"Maybe," he smirked. "It replaces the odor from the smoke."

"I could tell you've been smoking at least three packs a day," she commented. "You wanna tell me why that is?"

"Here you go, ma'am," came the limo driver's voice as he held out her suitcase.

Both Billie Joe and Adrienne turned as the guitarist took the suitcase for his wife. "Thanks," he muttered. Then, as he turned to look back at Adrienne's expectant gaze, his eyes started to shy away. "Can we talk upstairs?"

"Why can't you just tell me why you disappeared to Vegas right now? I mean, it might save me the trip of having to call the limo driver back to take me home if I don't like your explanation."

Billie Joe just looked at his wife and sighed. "Please, baby. Can we just--"

"No, Billie. You owe me an answer, now," Adrienne insisted adamantly standing her ground.

"Mike and I got into a huge fight, wherein he beat the shit outta me, okay?" Billie Joe blurted a little angrily. So much for trying to play it cool. "And...and everywhere I looked, everything reminded me of the fight. I just needed to get away and deal with it on my own."

"That's it?" Adrienne questioned. "You and Mike have been in fights with each other before. What made this one so bad?"

"It's not important, Adrienne. Let's go up to the hotel room so we don't look like a couple of redneck hicks airing our dirty laundry for the entire city, okay?"

Adrienne simply studied her husband's face; every contour and crevice. But then she obliged by giving him a nod of her head. "I'm sorry. Okay. Let's go upstairs."

* * *

About an hour later, husband and wife were sitting across from each other at a small table in Olive's, one of the hotel's restaurants, next to a window with a view of the hotel's lake.

And it wasn't just any restaurant.

It was the same one Beulah had once worked at. The one where Billie Joe had ran into her that fateful night he slept with her; having been a little drunk and still angry over a fight he'd had with Adrienne. The first time.

In fact, from where he sat, staring over his wife's left shoulder, he could see the bar where he'd been sitting where he'd been getting drunk. Where he'd checked out Beulah's ass and agreed to meet her after her shift was over.

"This restaurant's nice," Adrienne commented. "How come we never ate here before when I was in Vegas with you?"

Billie Joe shrugged, brining his glass of wine to his lips. "I dunno."

Reaching her hand across the table, Adrienne took a hold of her husband's and smiled. "Happy Anniversary, honey."

Smiling adoringly, Billie Joe leaned forward over the table as Adrienne met him halfway in a kiss. He licked his lips afterward, sitting back and picking at the leftover food on his plate.

"So, do you want your gift now or later?" Billie Joe asked with a semi-impish grin.

Adrienne almost blushed at the thought. She'd forgotten about them exchanging gifts. And then her face paled.

"Oh, God. I totally forgot about gifts, Billie. I was so caught up with wondering where you were that I didn't get you anything..." she grimaced.

Billie Joe shook his head. "Yes, you did," he insisted. "You brought me you. And, for the guy who can pretty much afford anything, the one thing I need...is you. The best present ever."

Tilting her head and cooing inwardly, she bit her bottom lip and smiled.

"Oh, I'm definitely gonna hafta give you something later," she snickered. "But what did you get me?"

Billie Joe let out a small laugh. Something that sounded foreign to his own ears after living a week of depression, holed up in his penthouse suite. "Well, you sure are greedy as all fuck, aren'tcha?" he teased.

"Yes. Yes, I am," she joked with him.

Smiling at his wife, Billie Joe pulled a small box out of his pants pockets and set it on the table. Then, moved it over to her as he sat back. Her eyes widening with anticipation, Adrienne lifted the box in her hands and undid the small, red ribbon that was tied around it. When she lifted the lid off, she looked down at a smaller black jewelry box and began to smile even bigger as her eyes flitted up over to Billie Joe.

Taking the box out, she popped it open and her breath escaped her lips in a soft intake.

"Oh my God..." she muttered.

It was a ring. A silver band with a diamond in the center. And on either side were two extra stones. On one side, there was an Amethyst and an Aquamarine. On the other side, there was a Sapphire and a Peridot.

"What's this?" she questioned.

"A mother's ring. Sort of," he replied. "It's a diamond in the middle, because, that commercial says a diamond is forever, like me and you, and I believe 'em. Then, there's my birthstone, the boys' birthstones...and little Baby Unknown brewing in your pot's birthstone. Peridot's for August. And the baby is due next month, so, you know...yeah..." Billie Joe explained. "D'you like it?"

"Like it? I love it!" she squealed as she slipped it on her right ring finger. "And would you look at that. A perfect fit."

Billie Joe took that very hand in his and smiled across the table at her.

"I'm glad."

* * *

After dinner, Billie Joe and Adrienne went walking along the Strip until they found an ice cream parlor Adrienne wanted to stop at, but Billie Joe was hesitant.

And for good reason.

It was the same ice cream parlor he and Beulah had gone to and where they sat in her car, in the parking lot, eating their ice cream cones, talked, and then kissed.

So, needless to say, Billie Joe insisted they didn't stay long.

They got their ice cream and left, eating it on the go, but as they continued to walk along, Adrienne complained that her feet were starting to hurt so Billie Joe hailed a cab and they rode back to the Bellagio, chatting about little things. Unimportant things.

And then, they arrived back at the Bellagio, ice cream free at this point, and reached the elevator.

As they made it to their penthouse suite, Billie Joe encircled his arms around Adrienne, pressing his chest against her back and placing his hands on her stomach while trailing kisses up and down her neck.

"Mmm, Billie," she groaned slightly, turning around in his embrace to face him. Despite, of course, her protruding stomach placing some distance between their bodies.

It was almost casual, the way they stripped their clothes away. Granted, they'd been fucking each other for about fifteen years. Call it familiarity. Billie Joe knew where to touch to make Adrienne melt against him, and she knew what to say to get him revved up.

They found their way to the bedroom of the penthouse suite, where they'd disentangled each other of their clothes and before they became one, as cheesy as that sounds, Billie Joe leaned down and placed a kiss on her stomach.

"Hey, sweetie," he whispered. "Just ignore your daddy ravaging your mommy."

Adrienne giggled as he rolled onto his back and helped her climb on top. It was an easier position give her, well, position.

The two of them went at it, and there was so much love between them that it was almost blinding. But Billie Joe's mind was still so chaotic. As much as he'd put on a brave face for his beautiful wife, he desperately wanted to cry out and whimper and curl up in a ball somewhere in the room. Being with her in the same places he'd been to with Beulah, it almost felt as if he were reliving that night from six years ago.

For every movement Billie Joe and Adrienne made, he got a flashback of Beulah. Of how her blonde hair fell over her shoulders. Of how she closed her blues eyes and bit her puffy bottom lip. Of how she whispered his name when they'd finished.

And then it happened. Billie Joe didn't mean to say it, but it happened anyway.

"Beulah," he moaned so softly as his green eyes screwed shut as he climaxed.

But then he heard his own voice and those eyes of his snapped open, meeting Adrienne's surprised expression above him.

"What d'you just say?" she asked, ceasing all movement.

"N-nothing. Forget it," he insisted, trying to come down from the high they'd created.

Adrienne rolled off of her husband and shook her head. "No...tell me what you just said."

"I didn't say anything."

Scowling, she sat up beside him, shoving her hand against his chest. "Bullshit!" she exclaimed. "You said Beulah! I know what I heard."

Billie Joe's eyes turned a shade of guilty as he swallowed back a lump in his throat and began to sit up as well. "It was an accident. It didn't mean anything..."

Oh, if that was ever a double entendre.

"How can you say it was nothing? You fucking said Beulah's name when you orgasmed! How is that nothing?"

"I don't know!" he snapped, turning his back to her. Then shouted, "I don't know, all-fucking-right?"

"Are you sleeping with Beulah?" she asked dangerously low, pulling the bed sheet up and around her body; fearing the answer.

"No," he replied. In a sense, he wasn't lying. In a year and a half, last week had been the first and only time with the blonde. The last, in fact. "She's pregnant with Mike's child, for Christ's sake."

"Then why else would you moan her name instead of mine?" Adrienne demanded. "This is our anniversary, Billie! You're supposed to say, 'Oh Adrienne' not 'Oh, Beulah!'"

"I said I'm sorry!" he shouted, taking several deep breaths.

It felt like he could hear the blood pulsing in his ears as he tried to focus on the world around him. But, even though he tried to calm himself down, he just kept taking bigger and bigger breaths and it didn't help. His heartbeat sped up considerably.

Slowly, Billie Joe began to rock back and forth on the edge of the bed, breathing in and out rather quickly.

"Billie, what's going on? Why have you been so...self-inflicitng lately?"

He shook his head. "I don't know," he growled out. "I don't fucking know anything anymore!" the guitarist cried out before adding, "I don't...I don't...don't know."

Adrienne's eyes widened.

Oh, fuck.

Billie Joe was having an anxiety attack.

Climbing to her feet, she scanned the room and found a paper bag on the bedside table and as she picked it up, a bottle of prescription pills fell out. She looked at it briefly and recognized it as being sleeping pills.

Since when did Billie Joe ever need sleeping pills?

Glancing over at her husband, she contemplated asking him right there, but then thought it wasn't the best idea at the moment, given that he was hyperventilating.

Walking around the bed, she handed him the paper bag. "Here," she said simply.

He looked up enough to take the bag and place it to his mouth to help him get his breathing back to normal.

It took a few moments of just focusing on shorter breaths and clearing his mind a little before he pulled the bag away and dropped it to the floor and then hunched forward on the bed, covering his face with his hands.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"You're welcome," she replied, just standing in front of him, holding the bed sheet around her body still.

"Can you get me a cigarette?" the green-eyed punk rocker asked of his wife.

Her mouth dropped open a bit as she just stared down at him. "You just had an anxiety attack and now you want a cigarette?"

"Yeah," he answered, finally looking up at her with sheepish eyes. "So what?"

Adrienne shook her head. "You're unbelievable," she scoffed. "You want a goddamn cigarette, go get it yourself."

With that, Adrienne stepped out of the room and walked into the 'Her' bathroom of penthouse suite, shutting the door behind her. As Billie heard the water starting to run for a bath, he grimaced and stood up, picking up all of his clothes he'd discarded on their way to the bed, and gradually put them all back on.

Walking barefoot out of the bedroom and into the dining area where he'd left a pack of cigarettes, he pulled a stick out and then lit it with a candle that was lit and burning on the table for ambiance.

Taking a slow drag, he scratched his head and then hit his empty hand against his temple.

"Stupid shit," he mumbled. "Fucking, fucking asshole. Screw up every fucking thing in your life on your motherfucking anniversary, you goddamn dipshit."

Scowling at himself, he stalked over to his shoes he'd kicked off not that long ago and slipped them on. Grabbing his card key to the suite and pocketing his wallet, Billie Joe left.

* * *

It was close to three in the morning when Billie Joe was kicked out of the fourth bar that night. He was too drunk and becoming a nuisance to the other patrons as well as the staff.

He didn't even care if anyone recognized him. He was too wasted anyway.

All he could think about was Adrienne.

He cried on the shoulder of a man who had to be in his early seventies, complained to a woman in her forties, and then got hit on by a twenty-something guy because Billie Joe had ended up at a gay bar at one point.

But every conversation, at every establishment, circled around his wife and how he'd probably screwed everything up with her and how much he loved her.

Finally, it was the bouncer of the last place that kicked him out that called him a cab and told him to go the fuck home to his wife if he loved her so damn much.

So he did.

And he wasn't even sure how he managed it, but the next thing he remembered clearly was stumbling through the penthouse suite door, into the small foyer and letting his groggy eyes fall upon Adrienne's sleeping form on the couch, in front of the TV she'd left on.

Somehow, he must've given the cab driver the name of the hotel and found his room in one piece.

It was fucking weird.

Bumping into the wet bar on his way over, Billie Joe turned off the TV and then leaned forward, touching his wife gently on the shoulder, but it wasn't as gently as he'd thought because it woke her up.

Staring up at her plastered husband with tired, brown eyes, Adrienne took his hands in hers and pulled him down to the couch where he plopped down beside her.

He leaned against one side of the couch and drew her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he rested his cheek beside hers.

"I can't drink it away," he slurred slightly.

"I'm glad," Adrienne whispered.

Billie Joe kissed her earlobe and closed his eyes, giving into sleep at last. "I love you so much, Adrienne," he whispered back. "Don't lemme give you up without a fight, 'kay?"

She sighed and snuggled against him. "Okay," she replied as she fell asleep with him on the couch.