A Ballad For Beulah

Billie Joe Armstrong sat in the back of his taxi cab as it neared the famed Bellagio Hotel and Casino. He had his cell phone placed strategically at his ear as his green eyes loitered over to their reflection in the cabbie's rear view mirror. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he leaned forward, trying to muffle the phone conversation as best as possible as he ran a hand through his dark hair.

"Adie, the tour just fucking started a few days ago. Is there any possibility of getting the fuck off my back for a little while?" he snipped. "If anything, start bitching to me about not bringing you and the boys out with me when the tour's half over and I'm still not home. Not a goddamn few days in. Christ."

Dragging his hand down to his face, he closed his eyes and winced at whatever it was Adrienne was telling him on the other end.

"No, I'm not being unreasonable. I'm being fucking logical. Start learning the difference between the two. God dammit, no. Sonofabitch, Adie, no. No. No, you know what? Fine. I will gladly go fuck myself, thank you. Bye." He hung up his cell without another word or warning he was doing so.

Turning it off so he wouldn't know if he had a call or not, Billie Joe sat back up and looked to his right at the scenery of the Vegas Strip rolling by. Bright sign after bright sign became more a blur the less he really focused on what he was seeing, too far gone and lost in his thoughts until he realized the taxi was no longer moving and the cabbie was calling to him.

"Sir. Sir?"

Lifting his attention to the cabbie, Billie Joe quirked his eyebrows. "Huh?"

"We're are the Bellagio."

"Oh," the punk rocker muttered. "Thanks." Digging into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet and handed the cabbie the fair plus tip and then slowly slid out of the vehicle, on his own for an evening of gambling and drinking his worries away.

Sauntering through the main entrance, he wore no real expression at all. It was the 26th of June, 2000; the day before Green Day's concert at the Las Vegas Drag Strip and that gave him the time to kick back and do whatever he wanted in Sin City.

The first thing on his agenda was getting something to drink. And as soon as that was said and done, he wandered over to the Craps tables, losing about 300 bucks within five minutes.

Grumbling to himself, he moved onto the ever monotonous but strangely addictive slot machines, sitting down with his drink and a bunch of quarters.

Fortunately he walked away with about 86 dollars and 75 cents. But then again, he had lost about 100 in the process.

But, eh. C'est la vie and all that shit. It was, after all, Las-fucking-Vegas. What was he supposed to expect? Rainbows and kittens? You win some, you lose some. And what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Eventually he grew bored of gambling and decided that maybe he'd go to the bar and restaurant to grab a bite to eat and another drink while catching some news or sports scores.

Walking in rather aloofly, he took a seat at the bar on a very comfortable stool and leaned on the counter top, ordering a glass of Jack Daniels from the bartender.

Scratching at his slightly chubby face, Billie Joe folded his arms on the counter, wrapping the fingers of his right hand around his glass and lifting it to his lips as he caught movement of someone walking behind him.

Turning his head only slightly, he took note that it was a young woman who had to be in her early to mid twenties, who had more curves than Lombard Street in San Francisco and, as he took in the sight of her ass as she cleaned a table behind him, he couldn't help but smirk.

Nothing bad came from looking. He could look all he wanted. It was the touching that would get him in trouble.

As the young woman turned with a small, square tub full of dirty glasses and plates, Billie Joe turned his attention away quite discreetly as she placed the tub on the bar's counter top and sighed.

"What's the matter?" the bartender asked with a sympathetic smirk. "Tired tonight?"

"You have no idea," she replied, her voice velvety. "I just came off an eight hour shift at the Luxor. You know, my infamous gig as a Cigarette Girl. And I swear, the men who come there really have a penchant for pinching my ass. You have no idea how many tiny little bruises I must have."

"Aw, well, you should let me rub that ass sometime. I'll make it feel all better," the bartender teased.

The woman didn't reply as she just looked at him. "That's not funny."

"Sorry," he grimaced. His eyes looked over at Billie Joe, who's glass was empty. "Can I get you a refill?"

Billie Joe nodded. "Sure."

At his simple response, the woman turned her head and her eyes widened. The punk rocker could feel her eyes on him, so he turned to look at her in return.

"Hi," he muttered with a slight smile on his lips and in his voice.

"Just 'Hi?'" she questioned, which confused the slowly drunkening Billie Joe. "You don't remember me, do you?"

There was a twinge of disappointment in her voice that caused the green eyed guitarist to try and recall who she might be. "I'm sorry...I don't think I do. Did you, um...serve me drinks before?"

The woman bit her lip and shook her head, not letting his forgetful mind bring her down. "Do the nicknames 'Bee' or 'Baby' ring a bell?"

Billie Joe just stared at her until it all came flooding back to him. His green eyes widened in disbelief as he let out a laugh and sat back to take the sight of her in a little more. "Well, fuck. Beulah?"

She grinned, nodding. "In the flesh."

"Holy..." he was at a loss for words, quite utterly taken in by how lovely she looked. "Holy shit," he muttered with a smile. "You certainly...uh...grew up nice. I mean, what's it been? Almost ten years?"

Beulah nodded again, her heart seeming to swell that he remembered her now. "Yeah. Eight years and a month, actually, but who's counting, right?" she replied with a nervous laugh.

"Apparently you," he snickered in return. "How old are you now?"

"Twenty."

"Wow...that's just so...weird. Last time I saw you, you were this little twelve year old girl."

"Yeah, well. Not anymore."

"No, you definitely aren't." Billie Joe shook his head, still in disbelief. "Are you working right now?"

"Yeah. For another two hours," she responded. "But, um, after I'm done, do you want to go get something to eat, maybe, and catch up?" she wondered, finding the bold bone in her body once again. She just couldn't believe that, here she was, with Billie Joe, after years of wondering if she'd ever see him again.

"Uh, yeah, I'd really like to do that. Do you wanna meet somewhere? Or I could just sit here on my ass for the next two hours and wait. Either way's good for me."

Beulah gave him a smile that stirred a reaction in him he couldn't defend. The little girl he once knew and thought of as a little sister had morphed in a young woman who got his nether reasons all hot and bothered.

"Yeah, you can wait here," she agreed. "I'll be floating around, clearing tables and whatnot, so, yeah. That'd be fine."

Billie Joe smiled back, reaching out and touching his hand onto her shoulder. "I'm glad we ran into each other, Bee."

Beulah's heart skipped a beat at him muttering her old nickname. "I'm glad, too."

* * *

Beulah stayed true to her word in that she did float around, somehow managing to weave between all the tables, the tub resting on her hip, as gracefully like a butterfly. Billie Joe threw her glances here and there, catching a bashful smirk from her in return that made him wonder.

He remembered Mike mentioning to him once, many moons ago that Beulah had a little childhood crush on him. And that was ten years ago. But now, as he caught the looks he shared with her, he wondered if maybe she still had a little crush on him. If so, he was flattered. Given the knockout she turned out to be, anyone would be honored to be liked by her.

He kept the drinks coming, but not to the point of being piss ass, falling off the bar stool drunk as he'd been many times in his life. He sipped the drinks at a moderate pace, wanting to be aware of his surroundings when him and Beulah got together after her shift.

Speaking of which; Where'd the fuck she go?

Billie Joe looked around the restaurant and bar, and he didn't see her anywhere until he felt a tap on his shoulder, causing in to look in the other direction.

And there stood Beulah, out of her bus girl uniform and wearing a light blue tank top, a pair of low rise, hip hugger jeans that were tattered and frayed at the bottoms while the knee caps were all torn open. With sandals on her feet, he noticed a small tattoo on her left foot that was the symbol for Taurus, her astrological sign. And then there was her hair which she had kept pulled back off her face while she was working, which she now had down past her shoulders, falling around her face in a slightly disheveled manner.

Fuck, she's hot.

"Wow, you look...uh...you certainly clean up well," he teased, not knowing how else to react.

"Thanks," she smiled softly, pushing some hair behind her right ear. "You don't look so bad yourself, there, Elvis."

"Elvis?" he questioned with a curious grin, sliding down off his bar stool.

"Yeah, you kinda...you know. Put on some weight. It's your Elvis phase," she teased lightly, patting his stomach for a brief second.

Billie Joe dipped his head. "Yeah, I suppose I got a little lax with myself, but it's not like I need to impress anyone."

"True. And, I'm not saying the weight is a bad thing or anything. I mean, it's better than being skin and bone, and who doesn't like a bit of love handles on a guy." Beulah then shut up real quickly as her cheeks became slightly rosy in color. "I'll just be...shutting up now."

Giving her a charming grin, Billie Joe shrugged it off. "So, you wanna go do something?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure, I mean...is there anything you wanna do? The night's still pretty young. Not yet midnight."

"You mentioned getting something to eat, right?"

"Yeah."

"How about Subway? I'm kinda in the mood for a sub."

"That sounds fine," Beulah replied.

"And, uh..." Billie Joe flashed her another grin as he leaned a tad closer to her. "How about some ice cream? I seem to remember a little girl who liked vanilla with lots of rainbow sprinkles."

Laughing and smiling demurely, Beulah nodded. "Yeah, I happen to still like vanilla. But not the sprinkles anymore. I do, however, love going to Dairy Queen and getting a medium vanilla soft serve ice cream cone, dipped in that cherry goo. It's the same thing I always get whenever I go there."

"Then we'll just have to go there after Subway," Billie Joe announced.

As the two of them walked side by side out of the restaurant and bar, into the lobby, Beulah turned to Billie Joe, taking out her car keys.

"I, uh, have a car we can go in, unless you wanna cab it...or have your own ride, 'cause I mean, you probably don't wanna---"

"I'll go with you," he cut her off. "I came here by cab anyway."

"Oh, okay."

As soon as they were outside, and made it to where Beulah was parked, they hopped into her crappy little compact. She started it up and pulled out onto the strip in search for the nearest Subway restaurant that would still be open when she turned her head briefly to Billie Joe only to catch the glance he was giving her.

They smiled, both turning away at the same time to stare out at the road before them.

"So...how long are you in Vegas for?"

"Till tomorrow night. The guys and me, we're here for a show at the Las Vegas Drag Strip, but we got here a day early so we could enjoy what Sin City has to offer. But we have to leave sometime during the night after the show so we can be in Ventura on the 28th."

"Ah," Beulah muttered lamely. "The 28th's Wednesday, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Okay. I'm kinda screwing up all my days. Today feels like Tuesday, but it's only Monday. Ever feel like that?"

"My whole life feels like that," he replied; a twinge of bitterness in the way he spoke.

She looked at him again, but decided not to question it.

They arrived to Subway not that long after to find it closed, which was odd. She was so sure that there was one that was open for 24 hours. But, apparently not. So, instead, they just decided to bypass the entire meal and go right to Dairy Queen which was open for at least one more hour or less.

They sat in her car afterward, eating their respective ice cream cones, and chatting while the car radio played on in the background as they chatted in-between licks. But there was a moment when Billie Joe fell silent and stared out the front window, holding his dwindling cone in one hand while the other lifted to his face to rub his temple.

"Are you okay?" Beulah inquired. "You seem a little distant."

"I, uh...I've just been feeling a little...mentally exhausted lately."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really. I've never been the type to just open up and spill my heart out."

Beulah smirked. "Okay. Well, if you don't wanna talk about it, wanna sing about it?" she teased.

"Ha ha. No." He smiled, despite himself, and then tore his eyes away from the incredibly uninteresting car parked in front of them, and looked at her. "But I suppose...since you got me here in your car and the general idea was that we'd talk and catch up, I might as well say something..."

Beulah smiled. "What do you wanna talk about?"

"Anything. Everything. Nothing. Whatever." He chuckled at how she rolled her eyes a little at him. But then he sighed as he licked at his ice cream once more to keep it from dripping down the cone and down his hand. "Ever feel tired of how your life is going and wanting out of a current situation? Like, you just wanna throw in the towel because nothing seems like it's gonna work out?"

"All the time," she responded, nodding her head.

"Were you ever in a relationship that felt like you were losing your hold on? And nothing you said or did was what the other person wanted you to say or do? That nothing you did was right in their eyes anymore?"

"Not exactly."

"Well, it's how I'm feeling," Billie Joe commented, somewhat sourly. "Like a fucking...fuck-up." He looked down at his cone, and sighed again. "It's like I can't do anything right in my marriage anymore. Adie's sick of my shit, even when I don't think I've done anything wrong. And I'm tired of her nagging. 'Can I bring the boys with me on the road with you?' 'Why do I have to wait a few weeks into the tour? Why not now?' 'What's your problem?' 'Why can't you just spend more time at home?' 'Why can't you just sit still for five minutes?' Why this, why that...fuck. That's all I seem to hear these days."

Beulah frowned at how Billie Joe was opening up. She wanted to say something helpful or clever that would make him feel a little better about his situation, but nothing helpful or clever came to mind. She just remained quiet, letting him bounce his feelings off her.

When he turned back to look at her, having finished off the remainder of his cone, he wiped his hands on his pants and turned in his seat. His deep green eyes seemed bright in the dark of her car, almost seeing straight into her soul with no problem at all.

"You really grew up nicely," he complimented, seemingly trying to change the subject. His eyelids were a little heavy from either all the alcohol that was still in his system or from just being mentally exhausted, as he'd mentioned. "Let's talk about you, now, 'kay?"

"Okay," she replied in a small voice, noticing how his eyes seemed to focus on how she finished off her ice cream cone.

When his eyes shifted to meet hers again, she felt a chill run down her spin. A very good chill. But also a guilty one. She shouldn't feel so attracted to him. Not now. Not when he was a married man with two children. But there was nothing wrong with thinking a man was good looking, so long as she didn't act on her urges. But then, there was that voice in the back of her head that reminded her of those fantasies she'd had when she was a kid. Of how she pictured being with Billie Joe as soon as she was eighteen.

Well, now she was twenty, and he was twenty-eight.

He was a man, and she was finally a woman of legal, consenting age. But the morals that went along with him being married were the barrier that kept her from exacting her fantasies.

So close, but no cigar.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"You," he repeated.

"I know that, but what about me?"

Billie Joe shrugged. "Anything," he answered. "Do you have a boyfriend? How long have you been living here in Vegas? Are you in college?"

"Uh, well..." she trailed. "No, I don't have a boyfriend anymore. Him and I parted ways about five months ago. Um, I've been living in Vegas for four years now. Elliot, his wife and his daughter moved to Oklahoma two years ago and I stayed here since I had already graduated. And, oh. Elliot had a son last year. Anthony is his name. I haven't met him yet, but Elliot's sent pictures. And, um...oh. I did try college for a semester last spring, but I didn't really get that into it. It just wasn't my thing."

"Not everyone's meant for college. Hell, I wasn't even meant for high school," he joked.

Beulah smiled. "No, I guess not."

"But, you're doing alright?"

"I'm getting by," she amended.

"Got your own apartment, or are you rooming with someone?"

"I was sharing an apartment with Nick, but he started dating this girl who I can't stand, and she'd come over all the time or spend the night...like five nights in a row. And I couldn't stand her at all. But I wasn't going to give Nick an ultimatum that either she go or I go, so I just decided to try living on my own," she explained. "I rent this small, two bedroom apartment. It's rent-controlled, which is good. The only problem is it being so small, but considering it's just me..."

Billie Joe began to lean closer as she spoke, nodding politely at everything she said. And he couldn't even explain why he was so compelled to get closer to her. Perhaps it was because she was the first person in a long while he could just talk to with them not expecting anything from him in return.

He looked in her eyes, trying to figure her out. Not in the motive sense, but to see how the wheels in her mind turned. He still couldn't get over how pretty she'd become, although that's not to say she wasn't a cute kid. 'Cause she had been.

And maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was everything he'd been feeling inside him that was building up, screaming for some sort of release, but he was greatly aroused with each passing moment, seeing Beulah in a light he'd never thought he could see her as.

As desirable.

"Beulah..." he spoke. His eyes loitered from one of her blue eyes to the next and back again, as a charming smile began to spread across his lips and even appearing lightly in his eyes. "You're so beautiful, you know that?"

She blushed a little, biting her lip. "Thanks..."

"No, thank you."

"For what?"

"For being at the Bellagio at that moment. I think that some things happen for a reason. Fate, moira, destiny, kismet...whatever. And you know what?"

"What?"

"I know you had a little crush on me when you were a kid."

Beulah blushed again as her eyes looked away. "Was I that obvious?"

"No. Actually I was totally unaware until Mike mentioned it to me. And I thought it was cute." Licking his upper lip, slightly subconsciously, he grinned. "Do you like me now?" he asked, boldly.

"Do I---uh...well...I don't even know you anymore," she tried responding.

"Well, from what you've gathered so far...do you like me?"

She didn't know if she should say yes, or maybe or...what. So, she nodded slowly, avoiding any form of speech. And that was a good enough answer for him, as he moved his hand to the top of her leg, his fingers spraying out as he studied her face.

"I'm a little tired of never doing anything right lately and I'd like to get to know you a little better. If you'd let me..."

"Billie..." she began.

But he cut her off as he closed the gap in-between them with a kiss.

And not just any kiss. It was hungry and ravenous, yet soft and sweet all at the same time. Surprised as she was, and feeling guilty for him, she still couldn't help herself but give in. After all, here was the man she'd had a crush on since she met him on her tenth birthday. This was one of her fantasies.

Simply kissing him the way he was kissing her now.

And holy shit. Dreams can come true.

"Billie, we shouldn't---" she mumbled against his lips.

His hands wandered up under her tank top, almost as if claiming uncharted territory. "Tell me right now you don't want me," he spoke into her lips; daring her.

She couldn't lie. Of course she wanted him, but wanting and having were two separate things. Nonetheless, she did want him.

"I do," she mumbled weakly, giving in, due in part to how his tongue seemed to work its magic in her mouth, making her feel like Jell-O.

"You do what?" he egged on.

"I want you..."

He grinned lazily and partially still drunkenly against her lips, as his fingers found their way up underneath her bra to tease her breasts.

"Music to my ears..."