Band-Aid

We all crowded around the table, waiting for Michael to return with the right interview questions this time. Yeah, right. I know for damn sure he just wanted me to try and make conversation with these boys. Something I should have done a long time ago.

Billie coughed, breaking the silence. "So, how have you boys been?" I asked professionally.

They all gave a slight shrug. "We've been really good over all. Glad to finally make it somewhere, you know?" Billie said, then giving his luscious lips a small purse with a nod.

I nodded in a reply. "I couldn't agree more. I'm so happy you all got some where, but other than that, I actually made it some where as well," I said proudly.

They chuckled softly. "Yeah, you seem like you're doing good. You definitely look different," Tre said, giving his air-filled head a cock to the side.

A giggle left my mouth. "How so, Mr. Wright?"

He gave me a look like it was obvious. "Well, you no longer have dreadlocks in your hair, you wear make-up like a business woman, and you look like a lady!" he exclaimed eagerly.

Everyone laughed at poor, little Tre. He hadn't changed one bit and this was a definite good thing to me. If Tre wasn't goofy and air-headed, then it just wouldn't be Frank Edwin Wright III. And I'm for damn sure most of the people that know him thought the same.

Michael ushered back in with my black book, the files, and four Coca Colas. Mike's eyes lit up with delight at the sight of this. He loved generous and kind people also some good 'ol Coke.

He handed the files to me and I skimmed through them to only realize he had changed the wording around on the files and printed them out.

I pulled the tape recorder from my purse and began recording. I sighed quietly after I took a nice swig of the soda and tapped the papers against the desk lightly.

"We are here today to interview Green Day, which consists of Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt, and Tre Cool. Alright, to begin with, how did things go in the studio?"

Billie leaned forward to answer the question, getting closer to the recorder. "It was nothing like we had experienced before. It took us not even a month to record Kerplunk, but Dookie took almost a year. It was a lot of hard work, though it was very much worth it," he says, making himself sound more professional.

That was not Billie at all. The Billie I knew was a cocky smart ass with no morals. I know he was doing this just so I could get a big bonus from the manager.

I shifted in my seat, then cleared my throat. God, this was way too hard for me. The first question and I already feel like bawling my eyes out.

Standing up from my chair, I hand Michael the file and let out a shaky sigh of distress. "I'm sorry, but I have to excuse myself. Michael you finish up."

Rushing out of the room, I hear footsteps behind me, then a pair of firm, small hands grab my shoulders and spin me around. Billie...

With out even saying one word, I bury my head into his chest and begin crying, letting out all of the stress that needed to be released. His fingers stroked through my hair, just how I liked it. It could always calm me down, and he knew it was a weakness of mine.

His breath pounded on my neck, the feeling I also couldn't even bare. My legs wobbled from the old thoughts and memories I had of four years ago.

He lifted my chin, staring me deep in the eyes. "Erika, it's going to be okay," he assured me quietly.

Once again, I hid my tear stained face in his chest. His chest lifted more than normally. He was letting out a long, drawn-out sigh like he usually does when he's in deep thought.

Then, something popped into my mind. I wanted to ask, but I couldn't work the guts up to do it. If I didn't ask now, I would have a horrible feeling for the rest of my life not knowing what ever happened.

I lifted my head on my own this time, looking up at his electric green eyes. "Beej?" I questioned.

He gave his head a tiny nod for me to go on. "Can I ask you a question?" I asked, barely even audible.

"Anything, Erika," he said kindly.

I swallowed down the sour taste in my mouth.

"Why aren't you wearing your wedding band?"