Good Man

Sales guru Og Mandino once said that every defeat, every heartbreak, every loss, contains its own seed, its own lesson on how to improve your performance the next time. It's easy to take such an inspirational quote as that and pertain it to many aspects in life, be they personal or professional. You take that with you, and you move on. You move on as best as you possibly can with what you've learned. You move on with a new sense of hope. You move on with a feeling in the pit of your stomach that if you don't do something soon to better your situation and take your life into your hands that you'll fall by the wayside and all that you've ever wanted will have passed you by and become just a distant memory or a distant dream.

Then, there are also those people who have nothing they feel they have to improve, and nothing to prove. Not to mention there are people who, opposite to those not desiring improvement and are fine with the status quo, feel they need to take every cautious step to see through something in their lives that never seems to go right. They keep trying and trying to the point of wanting to give it up until that one, shining moment breaks on through and they'll do everything within their means to see that their situation doesn't exactly improve, but simply that it won't get any worse than it already has been.



Sitting in the boardroom was almost an out of body experience for Caroline as she sat still as a statue, minus the pigeon shit, listening to the executives, plus Rob, run down the list of what had to be done for The Sinners before the year came to an end in three months' time.

Their initial contract in which they each signed, including former band member Nick Konsta, was for three albums to be recorded and released over the span of five years starting with the year they'd been signed. Well, it had been seven years since they were signed to Reprise and they'd only dropped two albums.

The label was getting antsy and irritated. They explained how they allowed the deferment of the third release to continue until this point for several reasons.

One, Reprise took into consideration that the second album's release date was slightly thrown off course with Nick's leaving the band only to end up with another one some time later. Two, they were more than aware that Caroline had started a family and needed the time off. Three, Rob knew how to pull needed strings and throw his weight around within the company to allow the band the time they needed to get into their zone.

But that time had come to an end.

For several reasons.

One, Caroline was a quick learner who took up the bass which canceled out the 'we have no bassist' problem. Two, Caroline's children had reached the age of not needing to be doted on like infants and more like the toddlers they are; not needing their mother every five minutes. They could easily be placed in the watchful care of a nanny or babysitter when their mother was away or working. Three, there was only so much Rob could do for The Sinners.

The trio of musicians understood this completely but for the life of them, they could not understand why now, of all times, they had to 'lay the law.' There was more going on in their lives now than before, it seemed, and this, above all, is what pissed Dave off the most.

"We get that you want more money. You gave us a reasonable contract where we got to choose who we wanted to work with and what we wanted to do creativity-wise with that which we created with said people, but for you to have us come here today, and give us this ultimatum, more or less, shows you as nothing more than mere money-hungry, heartless bastards," Dave bitched, leaning forward on the long, oak table with his hands folded and his frown lines prominent. "Have you been absent from this earth in the last month and a half? Have you not picked up of fucking newspaper or watched a television newscast? Mike Dirnt was shot and killed by a psycho who offed himself this morning. Mike was Caroline's husband, the father of her children, he was a good friend to Nef and me, a best friend to Billie Joe Armstrong and Tre Cool who are also signed to this label, and one-third of your most popular signed band."

"Mr. Jozwiak," a suit began.

Nef, who had been the calm, voice of reason to Dave's bitch fit, was now feeling a little heat of anger rise into his neck as he listened to his friend and agreed with every word and every emotion the older man was expressing.

"No, don't cut him off," Nef interrupted, holding the caramel-colored palm of his hand up to the suit addressing Dave. "You have no reason to be worried about when we're gonna get a record out. We're still a band. The three of us, together. We're not going anywhere right now. We've just hit a major pothole in the road and we have some things to deal with right now, okay? You should be worrying your asses off on what you've lost along with us. Not only did we lose our friend, but you lost yourself an entire moneymaking machine which you types are so prudent on making sure keeps thriving."

"Green Day will go on, Mr. Radilla and Mr. Jozwiak," a second suit muttered. "They have a contract, same as you, and like your band, another bassist can be replaced in time."

"Green Day died with Mike," Rob spoke up on behalf of The Sinners which caused the executives to turn and look at Rob. "They said it long before Reprise signed them almost twenty years ago. The only way out of the band is in a body bag, and Mike's gone now. Green Day is and always will be Billie Joe, Tre Cool and Mike Dirnt. Not Billie Joe, Tre Cool and Joe Schmoe. They're no longer Green Day in which Reprise signed in 1993. They are no longer subject to their contract."

"What? Rob, this is not---"

"It's as good a time as ever to let this be known, guys," Rob continued. "Green Day is retiring. Billie Joe and Tre may collaborate together with other musicians from time to time in the future or maybe form a new band down the line, but they are no longer Green Day. They're forty-year-old men and in this business they're one of the lucky ones to have lasted this long. It's time for them to spend their time with their families because everything could be gone tomorrow."

The execs shuffled their papers and cleared their throats to buy time to figure out what they were gonna say next while Rob stood up and leaned forward, palms flat on the table. He looked across at each member of The Sinners and offered them encouraging smiles.

"These three still have much to offer as a group. If you rush anything out of them at this point, then your looking at a shit album that'll do poor in sales and you'll lose more money than you'll make from them. Give them the time they need to grow from these problems they're faced with right now. Today, of all days, especially, is not the time to talk about this. A week from now, maybe. But today is not only inappropriate and insensible, it does nothing to show any supportive backing behind the group you still want to be a part of your label," Rob rattled as if rallying a troop. "You made it clear you want an album from them because they're a great band and popular enough. And if you want them to do for you, you have to keep doing for them."

"Like a family," Nef offered.

"Exactly," Rob nodded, stealing a glance at Caroline who was staring at no particular spot on the table. "Like a family."

Dave sat back and looked up at their producer and friend as he stood up straight and walked around the table, away from the execs he'd been sitting alongside, and behind Caroline, placing his hands on her shoulders.

With a thoughtful gesture, he kissed the top of her head, causing her to react by reaching her right hand up and pat the backside of his hand which gripped her right shoulder.

A slight smirk played at the corners of her lips.

"John Lithgow once said on an episode of Third Rock From The Sun that 'from suffering comes creativity. You can't spell painting without pain.'" Rob quoted. "Let these three grieve what they lost. There are lessons to be learned from suffering. If there wasn't suffering, we would never know what it was like for there to not be suffering. They've lost a great deal and cannot be expected to improve their lives, personal or professional, if you can't give them the room and time to do so."

With that said, it seemed as if the meeting was over with.

After all, how could anyone follow that up with a debate of any sort?

The executives agreed to alter the contract again to allow one year of mourning to give them the time needed to gather themselves, grieve, and find their creative spark in which to finish their third album and release it.

Outside the board room, where the execs were left to stew with their bickering between each other and the Oscar-winning performance Rob gave within, The Sinners each took a turn thanking the producer for backing them one hundred percent. And when it was Caroline's turn, her thanks came in a simple gesture.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Rob, embracing him and letting out a sigh of who knows exactly what emotion.

When Caroline released her grip and stepped backward, Rob smiled.

"You're welcome."



As the weeks wore on, The Sinners went about their lives, not doing so much in the way of their shared career, but spending time with each other. After all, they were a family of sorts and families stick together.

Caroline preoccupied herself for the most part to not think about Dean Calkins' suicide which unfortunately led to no trial in order to bring justice against him. She had cried that night she got home from the city; once her kids were in bed and asleep. The bastard responsible for killing her husband avoided punishment here on this earth but the only thought that seemed to help Caroline get by was the thought of Dean Calkins' being tortured for an eternity within the worst circle of hell, by the Devil himself.

And then came Mikey's third birthday a day later, which was a quiet affair, only involving those close to the small family. The boy received a package from his Grandpa Alex from Upstate New York and Aunt Timmy, along with packages from his Grandma and Grandpa Woods in North Carolina. Mike's birth mother, Lucy, and half-brother, Shawn, sent something as well, while his adoptive mother, Cheryl, came to the party in person along with Mike's sister Myla and her family. Mike's adoptive father called and wished his grandson a happy birthday, but didn't show.

Caroline knew the elder Pritchard loved his son, adopted or not, and no matter how good or bad a relation they had together through the forty years Mike had been in his life. Caroline understood completely that by coming to the party this soon after Mike's death, seeing little Mikey would be like reliving his own son's third birthday all those years ago, when his own family was still together. And seeing Mikey would only be a reminder of what so many had lost.

Caroline was aware of this and she didn't hold it against him.

How could she?

She had felt the same.

Their world had been wounded and only time would supposedly heal the pain. For Caroline, however, the pain wouldn't ever be gone, but perhaps it would numb after a while.



The heartwarming cackles of little Chloe Pritchard echoed off the walls of every room she entered as she ran from her big brother in what looked more like that of a waddle at hyper speed. Her dark blonde, wispy hair, which was becoming closer to brown every day, gave an appearance of buoyancy as she bobbed up and down from each quick step she took while Mikey chased her; his socks halfway off his small feet.

This had been going on for more than an hour when at one point Tre was very sure that walking around a mine field was an easier task than trying to walk around his own home without stepping on little kids that kept getting underfoot.

It made Tre love and loathe these occasions where he helped his wife babysit their niece and nephew so that Caroline could have a few hours to herself, here and there.

"Unca Tay, Unca Tay!" Chloe called out as she wound up running right into Tre's legs while he attempted to maneuver around the kitchen.

"What d'ya want, peanut?" With one downward motion, the 39-year-old drummer bent forward, grabbed Chloe under her arms and slung her over his shoulder like a caveman would to his cavewoman.

As he carried her around the kitchen with him in circles, Chloe giggled incessantly while Mikey scampered into the kitchen as well and stopped in the center of the room, stood still and, when he was aware Uncle Tre was looking his way, the three-year-old began to shake his butt; swaying from side to side in some sort of seizured version of The Twist.

"What're you doin', you goofball?"

"Dancin'," the child replied.

"If you say so," Tre laughed as he walked over to the cupboards and opened one of the doors with a single hand since the other hand was holding Chloe in place and making sure she didn't slip from his grip.

He pulled out two sippy cups and set them on the counter top, thereafter setting their respective lids beside them. Walking over to the fridge with Chloe still over his shoulder, Tre withdrew a pitcher of grape Kool-Aid and kicked the fridge door shut with the heel of his left foot as he turned and went back to the cups. Filling them as he could, he finally set Chloe back down on the ground, twisted the caps of the sippy cups on, and handed one to each of the Pritchard tots.

"There; now go watch cartoons while Uncle Tre realigns his back," Tre spoke to the siblings as he stood up straighter, arched backward and cracked his back slightly.

Watching Mikey saunter off with his little sister following suit, Tre couldn't help but shake his head and smirk.

"Damn, how does a little peanut of a thing weigh so much?" he questioned out loud to himself.

As he turned to put the Kool-Aid pitcher back in the fridge, however, he received an answer.

"Chloe doesn't weigh much, you're just getting old and brittle."

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he took notice of Giselle stepping lightly into the kitchen, her bare feet padding across the tiled floor.

"You're not exactly getting any younger either," he through back jokingly.

Giving her husband a 'you've got to be kidding' look, the stoic, Curly Sue of a brunette leaned forward on the island and folded her arms under her bosom.

"This coming from the man who's less than two months away from turning forty and is married to a woman who just turned thirty-one in August," she responded. "Honey, thirty has been the new twenty for the last ten years. People are living longer thanks to modern medicine, not to mention starting their families later, waiting to get their careers established and whatnot."

"I started my family right away," Tre commented. "Not that it was exactly planned. It was more so with Claudia than Lisea."

"Well...it's definitely planned for us."

Giving the woman across the island from him a questioning look, Tre's left eyebrow raised as he tried reading between her lines; a task he was never exactly all that great at doing.

"You and I are our family."

"Were," Giselle muttered. Twisting her lips in thought and giving Tre an expressionless stare, she shrugged. "I'm pregnant again. And I have a feeling this time around."

"A feeling?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I think this one will be the one. I don't think I'll miscarry again."

"So...you're saying we got another shot at doing this?" Tre asked, the tone in his voice dripping with hope.

With a second nod, Giselle began to smirk. "I may've had my problems trying to carry a child past the first trimester, but this one -- I just feel it in my soul -- is the real deal. But---"

"There's a but?" Tre interrupted, stepping around the island to stand beside his wife of seven months.

Leaning up off the island, Giselle turned so that her body faced Tre's. Bringing her hands up to his chest, she laid the palms against the smooth cotton of his shirt. Patting his chest twice, almost assuringly, she looked him in the eye with a hint of rue glittering in her blue orbs.

"But..." she continued from where she left off. "If for some turn of fate or whatever you wanna label it that this child doesn't come to be after all, I'm getting my tubes tied. I don't wanna go through the emotions of getting my hopes up just to have them shot down again."

Tre nodded; empathizing. "I know, babe. I understand."

"I mean, even though my chances are low at carrying a child to full term, there are always the other options we've talked about: adoption, surrogacy..."

"...Me knocking up a prostitute in the seedy streets of Tijuana."

With a short laugh, Giselle balled up a fist and punched her husband in the arm.

"Ow," he pouted. "It was just an option," he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Holding each other's gaze, Tre leaned closer and wrapped his arms around Giselle's, causing hers to be pinned down at her sides.

"We have your kids, too, you know," Giselle added, looking up at her husband.

"They're yours, too." Placing a kiss on the tip of her nose, he leaned back enough to looks down at her. "And I'll do whatever I can to make sure this bun in your oven finishes baking."

"You're a peach."

"You're a kiwi."

Giselle giggled. "No, you idiot, I mean 'peach' as in you're a doll...a sweetheart, even."

"A doll?" he repeated. "I like to think of myself as more of an action figure."

Rolling her eyes, the blue-eyed psychiatrist pulled out of her husband's grasp and shook her head. "You're such a dipshit."

As Giselle walked away from her main squeeze, she poked her head into the living room to check on her niece and nephew.

Tre looked down at his feet and leaned with his lower back up against the island, his hands gripping the edge as he watched Giselle walk a few feet away; his mind beginning to reel with questions.

Am I prepared to comfort Giselle again if she loses this baby, too? Will we finally luck out and have a child of our own together? Am I even prepared for being a father all over again at forty years old when I have a tough enough time lugging my 19-month-old niece around from time to time?

"When do you think we should tell Caroline about you being pregnant?" Tre inquired, causing Giselle to withdraw completely back into the kitchen from the living room.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she lost her and Mike's baby last month. I'm not sure where she is mentally just now to handle the news."

Giselle shrugged. "I'm not sure anymore, either. All this has been so horribly rough on her lately. And the way my past record with pregnancies go...maybe we shouldn't bother until we're sure I'm in the clear. Maybe we wait until I'm into the second trimester?"

Tre nodded. "Sounds good. We give ourselves time to see how you progress, and we give Care time to heal a bit more."

"Yeah, yet somehow I also feel guilty about keeping this from her. She was there for me each time I miscarried. She cut short a press tour for The Sinners' last album to see me in the hospital the first time..."

"I guess...well, whatever you wanna do..."

"No. No, I think it's best to wait before letting her know. But at the same time I think we should wait to tell anyone else. Maybe after the first of the year..."

"Perhaps."

After a few moments of stewing in each others' thoughts, Tre couldn't help but smirk.

"What?" Giselle wondered, tilting her head to the right just a little.

"Oh, nothing."

"Okay, well, I think I'm gonna go sit with the kids and watch cartoons," she informed. "You comin'?"

"Past tense," he muttered with a mischievous grin. "You're pregnant, aren't you?"