You've Got to Hide Your Love Away

Billie kicked the bus exterior angrily, feeling trapped within his body. He stormed back to the bus, determined to take out his anger on something, anything...Tre. He threw open the door to find his band mate seated on the couch with his drink, a hand full of chips and a look on his face that said he knew exactly what he had coming for him. For one of the only times that Billie could remember, Tre was wide eyed and silent.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” His voice filled the bus, nearly shaking it. It was a volume more appropriate for their arena shows than for the enclosed automobile.

“Me?” Tre dropped the chips on the floor, rising to his feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You cheated on your wife!”

“Hey guys.” Mike walked onto the bus, coffee in hand after a successful trip to the nearest Starbucks.

“Dammit, Tre! That doesn't make it any of your business!” Billie pushed Tre back, causing him to stumble on to the couch.

“Damn straight it's my business! Somebody had to fucking tell her!” Tre countered, rising up again.

“Woah, what the fuck is going on?” Mike interjected. Tre looked relieved, Billie had been pretty close to jumping him. Normally Tre wasn't too worried about Billie fighting him, but with all of that adrenaline in his system... Well, he wasn't in the mood for a black eye... or broken neck.

“Ava just found out Billie's not on the market.” Tre answered, casually sneaking towards Mike for cover while Billie Joe was distracted.

“She didn't know?” He asked, ignoring a fuming Billie.

“Nada.” Tre answered. Mike cringed.

“You thought she was just never going to figure it out?” Mike raised an eyebrow, turning the conversation to Billie, and took a casual sip out of his coffee. He knew that when Billie Joe got fired up it was best to keep his cool.

“I don't know.” He groaned. He plopped down on the couch and cradled his head in his hands. All of the fight had left him.

Mike and Tre stood facing him, both at a loss for words.

“I just – fuck, guys.” He reached a hand up to tug on his jet black hair.

“Were you really that horny? You couldn't just choke the chicken in the mean time?” Tre characteristically broke the silence.

“It wasn't just sex. She drove me crazy.”

Mike and Tre shared a knowing glance without Billie's notice.

“You love her.” Mike stated, sounding a bit incredulous after a prolonged minute of silence.

Billie looked up, but didn't answer. They could see the conflict in his eyes.

“Oh, god, Bill. That's so fucked up.”

“I know,” He sighed.

“What about Adie?” Tre asked. Mike shot an icy stare and Tre shrugged, affronted. “What? She's your wife. You guys have been together forever, and now all this-”

“I fucking love her, man. I've always loved her. I feel guilty as hell.” Billie cut in, ending any doubt.

“But?” Mike prompted.

“But I love Ava too.” Billie admitted. Then, “And I am in one huge fucking mess.”

“What's going to happen now that the two of you are through?” Tre scrutinized him.

“What, will she go all psycho and rat me out?” Billie shrugged. “Nah, I don't think so. She was more worried about being seen with me than I was with her.”

Mike laughed. “Why's that? You think she's got a little slice on the side too?” Billie glared and Mike shrugged. “What, it's plausible.”

“No, it wasn't anything like that. She swears we're not punk and that we're everything wrong with modern music.” He laughed.

“Meh, she's not the only one.” Tre shrugged, unaffected by the blatant insult.

“So, she's worried about her reputation?” Mike asked, trying to make sense of it all.

He shrugged, “I guess. She's just,” He stopped, looking for the right word. “She's private about her personal shit.”

“She's a rock star.” Tre raised an eyebrow.

“So?”

“She writes lyrics. About her dark innermost feelings and struggles.” He added flatly.

“Yeah, but she's someone else off stage. She's funny and honest and trusting.” Billie sighed. Mike and Tre shot each other sidelong glances. This was worse than they thought. Billie had it bad.

“Listen, Bill.” Mike went to sit beside his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You know in the twenty years that I've known you, I've never once told you what to do. But right now, you're head over heels for this broad, and you're not in any state to make your own decisions, so I'm going to. Stay the fuck away from Ava. Patch things up with Adrienne. Get your shit back in order.”

“You make it sound so fucking simple.”

“It is.”

If only they knew.

***********************************************************************************

Six months ago, when she'd caught her ex boyfriend Dave cheating on her, Ava decked him and kicked him out. She didn't cry into a tub of Ben and Jerry's or watch old episodes of I Love Lucy. Instead, she sat sat in front of the mirror and did her hair and make-up while listening to old Beatles' songs and contemplating the brutal murder of Dave and her friend involving forms of medieval torture and a shit load of Nickelback music. She didn't shed any tears; she just packed everything he owned and anything that evoked memories of him into large boxes and carried them onto the streets. She was thorough and methodical, not leaving behind a single hair or t-shirt that belonged to him.

When she was done, the apartment was nearly empty, save her clothing, guitars, records and some ramen noodles. She liked it that way, and she didn't really need anyone else's shit filling up her space anyway. Ava was an adult child of divorce who spent more than ten years going from one house to another every other night and found that she didn't need things, she actually couldn't take them back and forth. Her home was in music, music that could pick up and go anywhere with her. But this, for some reason, was different.

Although Ava had only dated ( if you could even put call it that, neither of them had ever tried to force their relationship onto some category with a predetermined label and he'd never technically taken her out on a date ) Billie for three weeks and she had been Dave's girlfriend for five years, this break-up felt like it was worse. There wasn't a song to sum it all up; to explain it and make it right. Maybe that was what scared her the most; music was the only thing Ava knew, and anything that couldn't become a part of that terrified her.

She crawled into her bunk, staring at the wall.

Adie. Adie. Adie. The name ran through her head. That name made things more absolute.

It also made Ava feel more and more helpless.

She didn't like that at all.

Time passed, she wasn't sure exactly how long, when she heard a knock on the door. She didn't even flinch. Anyone that knocked on the door was obviously not in her band and she didn't want to see anyone else, especially not rock god Billie Joe Armstrong groveling with more fucking roses. When the knocking finally subsided and she thought the visitor would leave her alone, she heard the door swing open as heavy footsteps moved towards the back of the bus. She cursed their owner inwardly.

“Hey, kid. It's time to get up.” Called a man's voice from beside her, shaking her gently. She rolled over, opened one eye to see who her visitor was, raised her eyebrows, then returned to her previous position.

“What the fuck could you possibly want from me right now?” If he'd been anyone else, her venom might have actually knocked him back a bit. But he was himself, and things like that just soared right over his radar.

“Ava, you've gotta get up and do the show. You've only got like an hour to get all that fucking make-up on and make the sound check. The doors just opened, kid.” He said.

“Goddammit, Tre. I fucking know, okay? Just gimme another damn minute.” What the hell was he doing here? Ava hadn't expected the man who clearly hated her and wanted her to be damn sure of it to come onto her bus and console her.

“Nope, now.” Her eyes sprang open like that as she turned to face him again.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? You can't tell me what to do.”

“Somebody's gotta, kid. I know if I leave you here there's no way in hell you're gonna get up.”

“Okay, call me kid again and you're gonna fucking regret it. What are you, like five years older than me? You're not my daddy, Tre. And why the fuck do you care if I show? You wouldn't care if I was dead in a ditch.”

“Ava, that's not true.” He sighed. His stomach dropped a little at the site of her, all small and huddled beneath the blanket. He tried to shake it off.

“Oh, so that's why you humiliated me today and made me look like a naive slut? Because you care about me? Fuck off, Tre.” She went to turn but felt an arm pulling her back. She fought his grasp and lost, grumbling as he turned her around to face him again.

“Ava, just listen to me okay. I'm sorry about that, I thought you knew-”

“Oh, so you just thought I was a happy home wrecker by choice? That makes me feel so much-”

“I said listen!” He cut in, louder than necessary. She stared at him, wide eyed. “ God, you are a fucking pistol.” He paused to make sure he had her attention and shook his head. “As I was saying, that was for Billie, who has once again fucked up beyond belief. So, right now, I'm here for you.” He looked her in the eye, touching her shoulder softly, his expression softening. “I want you to get your ass outta bed, get ready and look like the sex goddess that you are, and fucking go out there and show Billie that you don't give a damn about him. Because someone needs to bring him back down to earth right now and you're the only one who has the power to do that. Okay?”

“You really think I'm a sex goddess?” She asked quietly, but he could sense a bit of a thrill in her tone. No matter what mood she was in, compliments like that always seemed to perk her up a bit. She also liked the thought of having power over Billie.

Power was good.

“Absolutely, red. Now go.”

“Fine, but for the record-”

“Yeah, yeah. You're doing this for you. Woman power and shit, just go show him who's boss.”

“Thanks, Tre.” She almost smiled.

“Don't mention it, darlin'. I'll be looking forward to tonight.” She rolled her eyes and he laughed.

As he left, Ava grabbed her make-up bag and sat in front of the mirror, starring at her reflection. It was going to take a lot to rid herself of the girl she was quickly turning into and dawn the familiar stage persona. But hell, she had plenty of cover-up stored up in case she came across any blemishes.