No One Knows

"It doesn't sound right to me," Mike complained, "Does it sound right to you?"

He was sitting hunched over his bass on the dusty floor of his parents' basement, his brow furrowed in concentration as he repeatedly played the same bass line, becoming more and more frustrated with each repetition.

Billie Joe smiled, lazily, at his friend from his position on the couch and took a swig of his beer. Mike was such a perfectionist that it really amused him at times.

"It sounds great, man," he insisted, "I already told you that."

"I had it better last night," Mike sighed, giving up and setting his bass against the wall. He stood up and slumped onto the couch next to Billie Joe. "Maybe if I give it a rest it'll come back to me."
"Maybe we need to get stoned again," Billie Joe suggested, raising his eyebrows. "Y'know, so you're in the same frame of mind. I've heard that kinda shit works... "
"We aren't getting stoned right now," smiled Mike wryly, "Last time we did that at practice you and Al spent thirty minutes giggling then forgot how to play your instruments. Remember?"
"Y'know actually, I don't really... " Billie Joe smiled.

It had been worth a try.

He took another swig of his beer, before setting it down and leaning forward in his seat, his hands folded between his knees. He let out a long sigh.

"Where the fuck is Al, anyways?"

Mike frowned.

"I dunno," he said, "I'm sure he'll get here soon. He knew we had practice at four. I spoke to him just yesterday."

Billie Joe sighed again, picking up his guitar and beginning to absently finger the strings. He never was much good at waiting.

It was another hour before Al showed up for practice. Billie Joe jumped up when he heard Al's footsteps on the wooden steps leading down to the basement, before Al sheepishly came into view, holding up his hands as if to fend off his band mates' complaints before they had begun.

"I'm sorry guys," he said.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Billie Joe demanded, scowling.
"Seriously, man, we've been waiting forever," Mike chimed in.
"I wanted to be here," said Al, defensively, "It was my Dad. He held me up, making me go through all this college stuff that he said couldn't wait. I tried to get out of it but he was just being a jackass."
"What college stuff?" Mike asked,
"Ah, just boring stuff," said Al, with a shrug, picking up his drumsticks from the couch and walking towards the kit. He sat down behind it and lightly tapped the hi-hat, before looking up to meet Billie Joe and Mike's confused expressions.
"Wait," said Billie Joe, walking towards him, "Al... since when were you going to college, man?"

Al stared at them.

"Since always," he said, "I was always going to college. Providing I actually pass high school, I mean. My grades have been pretty hit and miss lately... "

Mike stared at him incredulously. He couldn't believe Al hadn't seen this as something worth mentioning before now.

"Dude, what about our fucking band?!"
"We can still do it," Al frowned, "I'm only going to SFSU"
"That's still an hour away," said Billie Joe, in disbelief, "And you'll be all caught up in your college stuff. You won't be here... not enough... it won't be the same!"
"Guys... chill out," said Al, reassuringly, somewhat shocked by their reaction, "I'll come back at weekends. We can still jam. We can still play on Gilman Street now and then. Maybe I'll even be able to get us some gigs in the city, y'know? It might be a good thing."
"In what way can this be a good thing?" Mike asked, in frustration, "Weekends? For fuck's sake, Al, we said we'd make a go of this after school. A real shot at it. You could have mentioned you were fucking off to San Francisco!"

Al frowned. He hadn't expected to get berated for his career choices by two of his best friends and he really didn't think they were being fair.

"Guys... it's just a band," he said, "Get some perspective. This is my future we're talking about. And that's more important to me right now!"
"This band is my future!" said Billie Joe, angrily, "That's why I'm putting all I've got into it!"
"Maybe that's because you don't have any other options anymore, Billie Joe."

Al hadn't meant it to come out sounding as harsh as it did. He was just trying to make his point. But when he saw the hurt and anger on Billie Joe's face, he felt bad.

"Well, at least now we know where we stand," said Billie Joe, bitterly, "I can't believe I thought we were all taking this as seriously as I was. That's just great. You go off to San Francisco and hang with your college buddies and get your little piece of paper that tells everyone how fucking smart you are. And I'll stay here in the East Bay where I belong, trying to make a living out of my one option..."
"Billie... "

Mike's hand was on his shoulder, pulling him back as he moved closer towards Al, his body shaking slightly with emotion.

"You're twisting my words, Bill," Al argued. "That's not what I said, and you know it."
"It's what you wanted to say though, right? Isn't it?"

Billie Joe was raising his voice now.

"Fuck, Billie Joe!" Al shouted, "Will you just calm down! I didn't mean-"

He was cut off by the sound of Mike's fist against the crash cymbal, which made the two boys jump and turn to him.

"Will you two shut the fuck up?" Mike yelled, "Jesus! Listen to yourselves! Al, you should have told us you were going to college because you knew we wanted to do the band full time. But you didn't. So there's nothing we can do. We're just gonna have to make the best of it and if we want it bad enough we'll make it work."

Billie Joe stared down at his scratched up Converse. He knew Mike was right. Fighting wasn't going to solve their problem, he knew that. He just couldn't help himself sometimes. It always amazed him how calm Mike could remain in the most antagonizing of situations. He always had been the peace keeper.

"I'm sorry you guys," said Al, sincerely, "I guess I didn't realize how much of a big deal this would be. But now I do. And I'm committed, I swear. I just have to fit it in around other stuff too. Okay?"

The three boys were quiet for a moment, letting Al's words hang in the air. Then Billie Joe spoke softly.

"Come on then Mike," he said, "Show Al your new bass line".

* * * * * * * * *

It had been a week since her father had lost his job and she had done a pretty decent job of avoiding him. It hadn't even been that hard, because he was pretty much letting her do what she wanted for once, and she told herself that was because he felt bad about what happened, rather than because he just didn't care anymore.

She knew the money situation was looking grim, and it was only going to get worse. She didn't want to take it up with her Dad, anything that involved lengthy conversations with him was pretty unappealing, so she took matters into her own hands and went to find a job. It was tougher than she thought. Everyone she asked seemed to want someone with experience, but where the hell was she supposed to get some if they wouldn't give her a chance. She was close to giving up altogether when she noticed a beat up looking record store on the corner and decided that, despite how uninviting it looked, it might be worth a last ditch attempt.

It was. It was run by a guy called Eddie, a forty year old punk with a skinhead and a body that looked like it was a regular customer for a very trigger-happy tattoo artist. He looked so damn menacing that she would have walked straight back out again the moment she got in, had she not been afraid of looking like an idiot. But it turned out he wasn't that scary after all, and he didn't give a shit how much experience she had, as long as she could count money and arrange stuff in alphabetical order. She didn't think that would be a problem. She hadn't skipped that much school.

Knowing next to nothing about music, she was expecting work to be a chore, but actually she found she enjoyed it if only because it gave her something to do, an opportunity to interact with the real world. She enjoyed just sitting behind the counter, watching people come and go. She watched the punks and the metal heads, the hippies and the aging rockers, all collecting in their little groups in their own sections of the store, wondering why it was that she didn't fit into any of them herself. She was never left to get too lost in her own thoughts though, because she was always brought back to down to earth by Eddie. Eddie was obsessive about music. He could talk for hours about which of the Sex Pistols gigs he'd been to were the best and why, or how Led Zeppelin got their name, or why the The Clash would never be as good as The Ramones, and she didn't have the heart to tell him that she had no idea who Led Zeppelin were, or that she thought The Clash and The Ramones sounded pretty much the same.

It was her second Saturday at the store, and she was sitting behind the counter, interspersing her periods of people watching by reading a magazine, and not really paying attention to what was going on around her. Business was looking pretty quiet after the morning rush, but she was vaguely aware of Eddie reprimanding a young customer in front of the counter.

"You can't smoke in here, man."
"Why not?"
"Cause there's a notice over there on the door that says you can't."
"Come on man, I just lit up. I'll only be a minute."

She looked up. She knew she had recognized that voice. It seemed she just wasn't going to be able to stop running into that boy.

"Put it the fuck out, or I'll have to put you out," Eddie was saying.
"Alright, alright, Jeez... "

Freddy stubbed his cigarette out on the counter top with an exaggerated sigh.

"What's next? No talking?"

She couldn't help a smile from creeping onto her face. He certainly had some nerve. There weren't many people that Eddie couldn't intimidate, even if it was just an act.

Eddie threw a satisfied smirk his way before heading off to the back room to sift through the pile of demos on his desk. She knew it wouldn't be long before he was back again, telling her which legendary rock band each one was ripping off and in what way.

The moment the door to the back room clicked shut, Freddy took his packet of cigarettes out of the back pocket of his drainpipe jeans. He was opening it when he looked up and noticed her sitting behind the counter, picking at the varnish on her nails as she lost herself in her thoughts again.

"Hey... ." he said, in surprise, "It's you."

She looked up.

"Yeah," she said. Then she smirked, "You can't smoke in here... you know?"

He returned the look she gave him.

"You gonna grass me up?"
"Why shouldn't I?"

He leaned against the counter and gave her a lazy smile.

"Cause you know as well as I do that rules are meant to be broken."
"Heh. Not if it means I lose my job, I don't," she said.

He sighed, and put his cigarette carton back in his pocket. She had a fair point.

"So," he said, slowly, "Didn't exactly have you down as a grungy record store kinda person."
"Yeah, well, right now I'm a money kinda person," she shrugged, "If I have to sit in a grungy record store to get it then that's how it has to be."

He nodded.

"Haven't seen you around school lately. You started goin' to class or something?"

She smiled.

"Yeah, kinda," she said.

"Thought you might be avoiding me," he said, raising his eyes to lock with hers.

She broke it.

"Why would I bother doing that?" she asked, defensively, feeling nervous but not showing it.

"Cause of... well, y'know. You seemed pretty pissed before."

"I was pissed," she frowned, "But I do have more important things to occupy my mind than avoiding you, you know."

He shook his head in amusement.

"You're a piece of work, y'know that?"
"How's that?" she frowned, doubtfully.
"Not many people talk back to me like you do. Like... you aren't scared of me."
"Why the fuck would I be scared of you?" she asked incredulously, folding her arms over her chest.

He shrugged.

"Most people at school are."
"Yeah, well, most people at school are seriously misguided," she said, rolling her eyes. "There is nothing scary about you."

He looked a little offended by that, which gave her a flicker of amusement and satisfaction.

"I bet I can scare you somehow," he said, after a moment's pause.
"I seriously doubt that."

He raised his eyebrows and pulled his cigarettes and a lighter back out of his pocket.

"Mind if I smoke?" he smirked.
"I already told you, you can't smoke or I'll lose my... ."

She trailed off as he put his cigarette in his mouth and held the lighter to the end of it.
Oh, very clever.
"Freddy, I'm serious. If I get fired because of you I will be fucking steaming."

He raised his eyebrows as she glanced nervously towards the door to the back room.

"Am I being scary yet?"
"You're being a dick, if that helps you."

He finally lit his cigarette, took a long drag and blew the smoke into the air. She shook her head. She wasn't going to let him get one over on her. She hopped over the counter, grabbed his cigarette out of his mouth before dropping it to the floor and stamping on it. While he was still staring at her in surprise she grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pushed him towards the door.

"This is called reserving my right to refuse service, by the way," she smiled in satisfaction as she shoved him outside and locked the door behind him.

She grinned at him through the mucky glass as he stood open mouthed on the other side, before flicking her his middle finger and walking off, with a bemused smile on his face that actually made her laugh out loud. And she didn't even notice that it had been a long time since she'd done that.

*** *** ***

There was no one home when he got back from practice, and he was glad of it. He didn't think he'd ever been less in the mood for his mother's nagging than he was right then. He set his guitar case down on the kitchen table and headed out into the backyard. He sat down on the bench by the back door to collect his thoughts as he rolled a joint.

He couldn't stop thinking about the fight he'd had with Al at practice. He hadn't meant to fly off the handle like that, he just couldn't believe Al was really leaving. Just like that. He thought about what it would be like if Mike left but it hurt too much so he tried to push it back out of his mind. He didn't want Mike ever to leave, but he knew that one day it was bound to happen. Mike was going to finish high school. If the band didn't work out, he could go off to college if he wanted. And then he'd be left behind, stuck in the same old routine, clinging to the past.

He took a long drag on his joint and closed his eyes. He wished things never had to change. He wished he could just grab hold of friends and of this time and stop everything from moving forward, from moving on without him.

The low evening sun was beginning to go down completely, turning the sky pink and casting long shadows on the ground. He watched his shadow take another hit on his joint and blow the smoke into the air. He had just begun to wonder where his mother was when he heard her car pull up outside, and a few minutes later she poked her head round the back door.

"Hey Billie," she smiled
"Hey..." he smiled back, looking up."Where've you been?"
"I stopped off to meet a friend after I finished at the cafe," she explained, "What have you done today?"
"Had band."

He wished he could say 'found a job' or 'went back to high school', just to avoid the look of disappointment on her face. But that evening the look didn't show. She just nodded her head in acceptance before sitting down next to him.

"Y'know... I wish you wouldn't smoke that stuff, Bill."

He sighed.

"It isn't bad, Mom. It's relaxing."
"You don't need to be any more relaxed. If you were any more laid back you'd be horizontal."

Sometimes he wondered if she knew him at all. But he didn't feel like arguing with her that night, so he put out his joint and then leaned back in his seat, folding his hands behind his head.

"Y'know, Sweetie....there's actually something I wanted to talk to you about."

He was expecting another lecture, so he put his head in his hands and braced himself.

"Shoot," he muttered.

She didn't say anything right away, and he looked up to see her bite her lip, then turn so she was facing him.

"I saw my friend John today," she finally begun, "You know the one that you met the other week?"

He nodded. This wasn't where he had expected the conversation would go but was relieved because he'd had the feeling it was going to be something worse.

"Well ... we're kind of seeing each other."

He sighed.

"I already knew that, Mom."
"You did?"
"Yeah," he said, "I'm not blind."

"Ok...well... The thing is, John's going through some stuff right now. He has things to work out....so I said he could stay with us for a while, just until he's back on his feet."

This was definitely not how he had expected the conversation to go.

"He's moving in?" he asked, incredulously, "Already? I don't even know this guy!"
"It's only temporary," she said reassuringly, touching his arm.
"How long is temporary?"

She sighed.

"I really can't say, Bill. It might be a couple of months."

What the fuck? Was she kidding him?

"Are you kidding me?"
"Billie Joe..."
"That is more than temporary! I don't even know the guy, I meet him one time, he gives off serious asshole vibes, and now I'm expected to share a house with him?!"
"You talked to him for less than a minute! You can't make a judgment based on that, Billie!"
"Ok then. Does he make you happy?"

She looked surprised by his question. He could tell she was unsure how to answer.

"What?"
"Does...he...make...you happy?"
"...Yeah."
"Bullshit."
"Billie Joe!" she said, crossly, raising her voice, "Don't speak to me like that! It's my business who I see, and it's my house, so if I want to invite someone to stay to help them out then you have to deal with it."

With that, she got up and walked back into the house, leaving him outside on the bench, reeling. He let out a deep groan of frustration, dropping his head back into his hands, his fingers tugging at his hair. He knew she was getting taken for a ride again. He stared at the grass between his feet for a few minutes, letting the adrenaline wear off, before he picked up his discarded joint and lit it back up again.

And then he sat and smoked in silence, listening to the cicadas chirping in the bushes, and wondering when his losing streak was going to end.

*** *** ***

She stayed late at work that day to help Eddie lock up. They had a lot of new stock to sort through and categorize and she jumped at the chance for the overtime.

The house was in darkness when she got back. She tripped over Henry as she fumbled for the light switch, causing him to squeal and her to curse loudly as she caught the door handle just in time to stop herself from falling. She flicked on the light and dumped her bag on the floor. She could hear sounds coming from the TV in the living room, and she slowly followed them.

He was stretched out on the couch, fast asleep in the darkness, and she sceptically wondered what had made him so sleepy this early in the evening. The images on the TV set flashed pale colors across his features making him look almost ghostly. She knew she should wake him. But she didn't want to. It turned out she didn't have much choice though, because he seemed to sense her presence in his sleep and stirred. He opened his eyes, and they stared straight into hers.

"What time is it?" he muttered, groggily.
"About eight or something," she replied.
"Where've you been?"
"At work."

He frowned, making her wish she hadn't mentioned it. He didn't like the fact that she had a job. She thought it was because he felt she was demasculating him and making out he couldn't take care of them both, which she found almost funny because anyone could see he was doing a pretty good job of that by himself.

"I'm gonna go get something to eat," she told him.

He nodded.

She went back to the kitchen, rubbing her tired eyes. While she was waiting for her toast, she sifted through the pile of mail on the counter top, which seemed to contain a worrying number of bills and final reminders that she didn't want the job of opening. But at the bottom of the pile there was a letter already open, folded in half and a little crumpled. She absently picked it up and unfolded it, partly out of a vague curiosity, but mainly just out of boredom. As she started to read, she felt her heartbeat quicken and her breath catch in her throat. And she knew then that ignoring the final reminders didn't make them go away. They were being evicted.