Pieces of Truth

The night before Billie left for the tour we did a final run through of the house. We had come up with a list of things I needed to do and I knew what bills needed to be paid and when.

"Ok, so everything's good, right? And if you need to get in touch with me for any reason, at any time, just page Rob," Billie said as he wrote the number at the top of the list, "I'll call back as soon as I can."

"Cool," I nodded, finding it interesting how well prepared and organized Billie was.

"Good. Now that we've got that covered, wanna go out for my last night here?" he asked as soon as he finished rereading the list for the sixth time.

"Only if you want to," I shrugged.

"Go get done up then. We're hitting the town!"

When Billie had said we were going out, he failed to tell me that we would be out all night. We got dinner first, then went from club to club, the bustling Friday night crowds coming and going while we took our time.

"C'mon, let's go take the BART to San Fran," Billie said, obviously wanting a change of scenery.

Wandering around the city across the Bay, I took the time to watch Billie with a curiosity that I've always had for him.

"What?" he asked, swinging our hands back and forth while we walked.

"I'm gonna miss you, that's all."

"I'll be home before Halloween! It'll go by super quick!" he smiled.

"It better!" I laughed as we headed into another bar.

Billie continued to have a few beers or something harder at every place we went to, while I had given up a while ago. When I decided that it was time to head home, Billie was way past being tipsy.

We stumbled onto the All Nighter, since the BART had stopped running at midnight, which was three hours ago. I had to hold onto Billie to keep him steady, but it wasn't exactly working out. I got him to sit down for the ride, but that didn't keep him from being a nuisance.

We finally got off at our stop, much to the relief of the fellow riders and headed to Billie's car.

"Give me your keys," I told him, holding out my hand in anticipation.

"They're in my pocket," he answered, patting the front pocket of his dark jeans.

"Cool, give them to me."

"Nope! You want them, you get them yourself," he said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked and he shook his head.

I quickly grabbed the car keys out of his pocket, unlocking the doors and getting in.

At the house, Billie immediately stumbled into the kitchen.

"Want some tequila slammers?" he slurred as I walked over to him.

"No, it's time for bed. It's nearly 5 a.m.," I said sternly, grabbing the tequila and putting it away. You had to be firm with Billie when he was like this if you were the sober one. He usually wasn't one to go willingly.

Taking his hand, I led him upstairs to his room. I didn't want him to sleep in his clothes, so I tugged off his shirt and tossed it into the laundry basket.

"Ohh, so that's why we're up here," Billie snickered, trying to undo his belt.

At first I was going to shoot him down, but then I thought about it.

"Yeah. If you can get your pants off, we can do it. Hurry up!" I told him, going into the bathroom to change into my pajamas.

He was still fumbling with the buckle when I came back, which was quite amusing.

"I can't do it!" he whined, sitting on the bed, probably thinking that it would help.

"Sucks for you, cause I'm really in the mood," I said, kissing his cheek before I got into bed.

I laid under the covers, trying to contain my laughs as Billie drunkenly cursed under his breath. Probably half an hour passed before I noticed his struggle had stopped. I peered over to see that he was fast asleep. Mission complete.

Waking up before Billie, I packed all of his clothes that I washed the previous day, leaving him a little note for when he got to Maine, then went to make some hangover helper for breakfast.

Personally, I like salty foods after a rough night out, but Billie loved starchy stuff like rice and potatoes. It was his comfort food, so I made him a pretty good sized baked potato and brought it up with a couple of aspirin.

"Good morning, sleepy head!" I greeted him softly, leaving the lights off as I entered his room.

"Go away," he groaned, most definitely in pain, pulling his pillow over his head.

"I made you something to eat," I sad as I sat on his bed.

Billie peeked out from under the pillow, a weak smile hitting his lips.

"Now I remember why I love you so much."

"Oh, why's that?" I asked, handing him the plate while he sat up.

"Your baked potatoes are the shit."

"Glad I can help," I laughed.

The guys came to pick Billie up around five o'clock, and we had been busy up until they honked. We stood outside of the house; Billie's things were already in the van and all we had to do was say goodbye.

"I'll call you when we get to Maine. Our flight should get in at like 11:40 here or something," he told me and I nodded. I reached up and fixed his messy hair, earning a chuckle from the man.

"What are you doing that for?" he asked.

"Don't want Mike and Tre to be jealous of your sex hair," I shrugged.

"Awh man! We worked hard to get it like this," he said as he swatted my hands away.

"Fine, leave it then!"

"I will!"

We laughed for a second, then Billie pulled me in for a warm hug. After giving him a few goodbye kisses, Tre's voice rang out from the van.

"Come on! The plane will leave without us!"

"I'll see you in a few weeks," Billie told me and I nodded.

"Have fun."

I watched him get into the back of the van, then they drove off.

"Now what?" I said to myself as I headed into the house to find something to do.

The first week by myself was insanely boring. But one day I was at work with Stella and Ross talking about how I had been messing around with my boyfriend's recording equipment. Stella suggested that we all get together and record some stuff. She played bass, while Ross could play both drums and guitar, along with a few random instruments like the bagpipes.

We all got off at two and headed over to Billie's house, much to the surprise of Ross and Stella.

"You didn't tell us he lived in the Hills!" Ross said, awestruck even before we got inside.

"Shit, why are you even working if he lives here?" Stella asked me.

"Uh, cause I live in an apartment?" I laughed as we walked in.

The pair walked around the kitchen and living room, looking for clues as to who lived here. It was strange, because even I couldn't tell. There weren't many traces of Billie's personality in the decoration, which is why I felt like he didn't fit with the house. There were some religious artifacts, merely because Billie admired them, but there were no pictures scattered around the house.

"So what does this guy do?" Ross asked.

I didn't exactly advertise that I was dating Billie Joe Armstrong, frontman of Green Day. He was just Beej to me.

"Uh.. He's in the music industry. Let's go down stairs."

I led them to the basement, where they could see the walls of photos and gold or platinum records along with all of the equipment Billie had left behind.

"No. Way," Stella gaped, "This is a sick studio!"

"Thanks!"

We chatted about the amps while Ross perused the room.

"Wait a second. This isn't just some music industry guy, this is the guy from Green Day!" he realized, picking up a frame that sat on Billie's desk.

"Is he serious?" Stella asked and I nodded, knowing it was a picture of Billie and myself on stage when we were in Seattle. Some fan that was there had mailed one of the prints, which was pretty cool.

"Can we play or something already?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Uh, no!" she told me, "I want details!"

"Such as?" I asked as I picked up my guitar and tuned it.

"Like, how long? How did you meet? All that good stuff!" Ross acted like a crazed Valley girl.

"Um. A long time, we met in elementary school. That's about it," I laughed, "Let's get to playing!"

"Well then! We'll drop it, for now," Stella complied.

We played some random songs like Here Comes the Sun and Revolution by the Beatles just to get a feel for one another's playing, then we discussed songs we had each written.

"We have the equipment, time, and blank tapes and discs. Why not make an album?" I suggested.

"Yeah! We can sell them at Amoeba in the local talent section," Ross continued.

"We can do a gig at Gilman," Stella finished. She dreamed of playing there, but could never stick in a band long enough.

"Okay. We'll really do this. But it's gotta stay top secret," I told them, "We'll show this town what we're made of."

Spending the next few hours figuring out songs, we compiled a few of mine, Ross' and Stella's to make a cohesive twelve-track setlist.

"Now, Green Day recorded their first CD in twenty-four hours. Let's see if we can beat them," I grinned as I flipped on the switches to begin recording.