No One Knows

In a way, she could understand. She didn't think it totally excused the fact he was acting like a complete dick, but she had to admit that, if she was in his position, she'd probably be pretty pissed off too. He probably hadn't been given much more notice about the arrangement than she had and not warning him he was going to be sharing his house with another teenager was pretty unfair. Not only that, but meeting her father probably hadn't stirred up much compassion in Billie Joe towards their situation. First impressions weren't exactly her Dad's strong point.

For a few days after their initial meeting, Jessie and Billie Joe managed to stay out of each other's way. It wasn't difficult. As far as she could tell, he never surfaced before midday, so he wasn't about when she left for school, and by the time she got back from there or from work, he was out with his band or whatever the hell else he did with his time. The few meetings they did have were hostile and brief, and he wasn't exactly sweetness and light towards Ollie or her father either.

Especially her father. She could see how much he hated him. She could understand why. While she knew that somewhere underneath his unfavorable exterior was the loving father she had once known, there was no outside evidence of that anymore, and there was no way anyone else could know it was there. But she knew. Sometimes she thought he deserved to be hated, but other times she just wished other people could know too.

*** *** ***

"So how's it going at home?" Mike asked.

It was Friday afternoon and they were sitting in his parents' basement, setting up their band equipment ready for practice. Billie Joe sighed, perching himself on the arm of the couch as he concentrated on untangling the knot of amplifier leads in his hands.

"Pretty shitty," he admitted.
"John still being a dick?"
"John is a dick," frowned Billie Joe, "He's incapable of being anything else. I can't stand the way he takes advantage of my Mom. I mean, whatever, he doesn't have a place to live, and my Mom's one of those people who thinks everyone else's problem is her responsibility, but he could at least try to do something about it. He hasn't even tried to get a fucking job. "
"What does he do?"
"I don't know. Gets wasted by the looks of it. Let's my Mom run around after him. I don't know why she takes it, I really don't."
"What's his daughter like?"

He shook his head.

"Typical angsty kid," he said, "Pain in the ass. I'd only been in her company about a minute and a half before she was on at me about not having a job!"
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah. She's all smart-ass comments, up on her high horse... I just can't fucking stand it. I want my house back."

He sighed deeply as he separated the leads, then stood up and plugged one into the back of the bass amp, as Al came into the room.

"Hey guys", he said.

They greeted him, and Mike tossed him a can of beer. He caught it and pulled it open, holding it at arms length as it foamed out of the top of the can and dribbled onto the floor.

"You guys heading down to Gilman's tonight?" he asked, as he brought the can to his lips.
"Sure," said Mike, "Anyone playing?"
"I don't know," said Al, "I don't really care... I just wanna hang out."
"You gonna ask your namesake chick along?" Mike smirked at Billie Joe.

He smiled.

"Yeah, maybe," he said, "I guess I could give her a call."
"Doesn't that get confusing?" Al asked, sitting down behind his drums and tapping his snare.
"Kinda," Billie Joe chuckled, "But it's worth it... I mean... she's really hot."

Mike laughed.

"I'm surprised you even remember what she looked like," he said, "I hadn't seen you that wasted in a while."
"I was pretty out of it," Billie Joe admitted, "But I saw her yesterday. Down by the pier. She looked like I remembered, so... I can't have been that bad."

Mike shook his head.

"Billie Joe, you couldn't even remember where you lived, man."

He grinned.

"You're just jealous," he said

Mike sighed.

"Yeah... " he admitted, and they laughed.

When the three band mates arrived at 925 Gilman Street that night, Tre Cool was on stage, playing in a new band called the Outsiders. Billie Joe didn't like them as much as he'd liked the Lookouts but they were still pretty good, considering they were probably just starting out.
"Hey guys," said Tre, joining them down on the main floor of the club after he came off stage, doused in sweat and looking exhausted. They greeted him, and Al passed him a drink.

"When didya join these guys?" he asked, "You sounded pretty good."
"Thanks," said Tre, mopping his forehead with his discarded t-shirt. "I haven't really joined them, I was just kinda standing in. I'm the Gilman Street spare part right now."

Billie Joe grinned.
"You're a useful spare part though," he said, "You play the absolute shit outta those drums."

Tre smiled and shrugged.

"Everyone's gotta be able to do something," he said, "That's my one thing I can do. At least it's something fun."

Not long after, Billie Joe was standing in the line of predominantly underage punks at the bar, when he felt a pair of hands on his waist and turned around to find himself staring into a pair of familiar brown eyes.

"Hey BJ," she smiled, "You're looking a lot more upright than the last time I ran into you around here."
He smiled.

"The night is young," he replied, "You want a drink?"
"Sure."

The two eighteen-year-olds took a seat with their drinks by the side of the stage. Billie Joe sat down first and made room for her next to him, but she set her drink down on the table and sat in his lap, putting her arm around the back of his shoulders to steady herself. He smiled up at her. He was pretty useless when it came to girls, so he welcomed the fact that she took charge of things.

"Can you even remember last Friday?" she asked him, with a slight smirk.
"Sure," he said, nodding, "Well... mostly. I can remember the fun parts, if that's what you mean."

She smiled.

"It was pretty fun, huh?"

He nodded, smiling.

"Maybe we'll do it again sometime," he suggested, raising an eyebrow, and she grinned.
"Yeah, maybe," she replied, before leaning in and kissing him.

He snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as he returned her kisses. She was the first one to pull back, to his disappointment, and she laid a hand on his chest.

"You need to meet my friends," she said, matter-of-factly.
"I do?"
"Yeah. They come here a lot. They love your band too."
"They do?" he smiled, feeling a flicker of excitement.
"Sure," she smiled, sliding out of his lap and taking both his hands.

She hauled him into a standing position and he picked up his drink before she started leading him away into the next room.

They headed for a cluster of punk kids in the corner, who looked up when they saw them coming.

"Hey Billie," came a few voices, and Billie Joe squinted in the smoky darkness to place their faces before he realized they weren't talking to him. He chuckled to himself. Maybe this was going to get confusing after all.

"Guys," said Billie, "This is Billie Joe. He sings lead in Sweet Children."

There were murmurs of respectful acknowledgment all round.

"Your band's cool, man," said one guy,
"One of the best ones around this place," said another.

Billie Joe felt his ego swelling as he sat down amongst them, next to Billie. It almost felt like he had fans.

The state Billie Joe was in when he got home wasn't anything near the proportions of the week before, but he was still slightly unsteady on his feet as he went into the house. He momentarily lost his balance as he walked through the hallway, knocking his shoulder into the kitchen door as he passed it and letting out a small yelp.

He rubbed it with his hand before taking a packet of cigarettes from the back pocket of his jeans and heading towards the back door for a smoke before bed. He was vaguely surprised to find the door unlocked, but didn't think much of it as he stepped out into the darkness, cupping his hands around his cigarette to shield it from the cool breeze as he lit it up.

"Hey," came a nearby voice.

He just about jumped out of his skin. The cigarette fell out of his hands and he spun around.
Jessie suppressed a giggle.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he breathed, seeing her sitting on the bench in the darkness.

He picked his cigarette back up again, examined it for dirt, then put it back in his mouth.

"What the hell are you doing out here, are you trying to give me a heart attack?!"
"I couldn't sleep," She said, "I was just getting some air."

His legs were exhausted, and they weren't doing a great job of keeping him steady, but he was reluctant to sit down next to her. Instead, he leaned against the wall of the house to keep himself from falling.

They were silent for a long time. Well, it felt like a long time to the both of them, but it can't have been that long. Billie Joe was only half way through his cigarette when she spoke.

"Where've you been?" she asked, with mild interest.
"Gilman Street," he replied.

She'd heard Eddie talk about Gilman Street lots of times. He said it was where the local punk scene was centered, all the bands played in the clubs along there, and that most of them were full of drugs and smelled of dog's piss. Even though she knew he loved it, he didn't exactly advertise it well.

"Let me guess," said Billie Joe, almost sarcastically. "Not really your scene."

She shrugged.

"I guess I don't really have a scene," she said.
"Everyone has a scene," he said, "What music do you listen to?"
"I don't really... "

He lowered his cigarette and stared at her.

"You don't listen to music?"

That was the most bizarre thing he had ever heard. The way he was looking at her you'd think she had told him she didn't eat solid food or she didn't go out in daylight.

"It's not I don't like it," she said defensively, "I just never really got into it. My dad would probably go crazy if I played loud music anyway... "
"Your Dad can suck my dick if he thinks he's stopping me playing loud music in this house," said Billie Joe darkly.

She bit her lip. She didn't even want to think about what her dad would do if Billie Joe told him to suck his dick.

At that moment, Henry wandered out of the house, and hopped onto the bench next to Jessie.

"I've been meaning to ask where that fucking cat came from, as well," said Billie Joe, pointing at Henry with his cigarette.

"He's mine," said Jessie nervously, realizing that when she told Billie Joe it was only her and her Dad, it wasn't the complete truth. But Henry was just a cat. How could anyone complain about that?
"I hate cats," said Billie Joe, flicking ash onto the floor.

She rolled her eyes, glad it was dark and he couldn't see her. She needed to remember that it was apparently possible for Billie Joe to complain about anything.

"How can you hate cats?"
"They make me sneeze. And they get in the way and they're... just fucking annoying."

She sighed, listening to Henry's purrs and wondering if his ears were burning. She stroked his head. After a moment, Billie Joe spoke up again.

"How come you and your Dad are on your own? Where's your Mom, anyway?"

She frowned. She hated answering questions about her Mom. At least when Freddy had asked the week before he had the decency to look sensitive and caring about it. Billie Joe just looked like he was trying to find someone else to blame for the fact they were imposing on his home.

"I don't know where she is," she said, "She left us when I was a kid. My Dad doesn't know either and she isn't coming back to get me, so don't get hopeful."

Billie Joe felt a pang of guilt, and took another drag on his cigarette.

"Where's your Dad?" Jessie asked. She didn't want him to be the only one getting away with asking unwelcome personal questions.

He didn't answer her at first, he just stubbed his cigarette out on the wall harder than was probably necessary and stared down at his feet.

"He's dead," he said, eventually. "He died when I was ten. So he's not coming back either."

She watched him bite his lip and scratch his converse against the wall. She shouldn't have asked, that much was obvious now, and she felt bad.
"I'm sorry," she said, quietly, "But... he can't come back. I mean... at least you know that's why he isn't. It's not because he just didn't care. That's one thing to be grateful for at least."

Billie Joe looked up at her, his eyes darkening.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, "There is nothing to be grateful for!"
"I didn't mean... " she sighed, "I just meant... my Mom's out there somewhere, alive and well, and she doesn't give a shit. That's why she isn't here. At least you know your Dad cared about you, he just didn't have the option to stay around and be there for you."
"How is that any better?" Billie Joe scowled, anger and hurt coursing through his veins, "He's my Dad, he loved me, and now he's gone. Your Mom's perfectly fine, one day you might even see her again! I'd give anything to have even a flicker of hope that I might see my Dad again one day! But I won't! Because he's fucking dead! How the hell can you expect me to be grateful for the fact that my Dad is dead?!"
"Billie Joe, I-"
"Just forget it," he said, angrily, his voice cracking.

He shook his head as he pushed himself off the wall, swaying slightly as he headed back through the door into the house, slamming it shut behind him.

Jessie put her head in her hands. Why did he have to be so goddamn unpredictable? She knew he didn't like her and she didn't like him, but the least they could do was try and get on while they had to live under the same roof. All she had been trying to do was be civil, smooth things over, but she had fucked it up royally and he hadn't exactly made it easy for her. She sighed in frustration. Well, if he was going to behave like a stroppy little kid then she wasn't interested in winning him over.

Why should she give a shit about him anyway?