You've Got to Hide Your Love Away

Ava went out and smoked a cigarette, then she smoked four or five more. When she was actually starting to worry about developing one of the many tobacco related cancers and couldn't stand the incessant melee of her thoughts any longer, she went back to the bus, defeat like stench of spoiled leftovers, making her eyes water. How had she given in so easily? Not only was she going to hell in a hand basket,but she was clearly pathetic as fuck.

She opened the door with the intention of sulking back to her bunk and pulling the covers over her head when she was ambushed by Danielle, much to eager for a normal greeting.

“What happened?” The blonde bombarded her, grabbing Ava by the shoulders and shaking enough for her brain to rattle.

“What what?” Ava asked, throwing her bag on the floor. She pried Danielle's arms off and went to the mini fridge indifferently, looking for something to drink.

“What happened with you and Billie Joe?” She clarified, impatient.

“How do you know something happened?” Ava pulled her head out of the fridge, eyes wide.

“Uhm, besides the fact that you've been acting like an emo kid? He came here looking for you, and I sent him to the dressing room.” She sounded proud of herself.

“You sent him there?” Ava asked incredulous. Danielle wasn't one to play couples' counselor. Being Ava's counselor alone was a full time job.

“Duh.” She sneered.

“Fuck.” Ava cursed.

“What?” Danielle asked, confusion interupting her pride.

“He's married.” It felt good to say it, get this thing off her chest. She tried to act like she didn't give a shit, but Danielle saw through the facade.

“He's what?”

“Married. Ringed. Bonded for life to another. A family man. Must I go on?” Her voice was flat, indifferent.

“Fuck.” Danielle said after a sold minute of silence beside Ava rearranging the contents of the fridge, pretending to actually look for something. A can of peanut butter? She didn't even think she could keep anything down right now.

“Yeah,” She nodded, “Fuck.”

“And you're still doing him?” She didn't sound surprised, just a little bit concerned. Ava wondered what that said about her and tried not to be too offended.

“What makes you think that?”

“Besides your sex hair and they way you're avoiding eye contact?”

Ava sighed, slamming the fridge door and giving up on the imaginary search. She stood up straight and ruffled her hair, then sat down on the couch and dropped her head into her hands. “He was there and I couldn't say no. I didn't want to say no.”

Danielle moved to sit beside her, rubbing her back in between her shoulder blades. She was making mental notes on the whole situation for future reference.

“And I felt so guilty.” She continued when Danielle didn't respond. “His son called, and I just couldn't take it. So I left.”

“For good?”

Ava looked up from her hands. “I wish it was, but I don't think so. I'm such a fucking idiot.”

“You're not.” Danielle offered honestly.

“Then I'm selfish whore at best.”

“You don't have any loyalty to her, he does.”

“It takes two to tango.” Ava added miserably.

“You gonna stop seeing him?” Ava shot her a side long glance. “That's what I thought.”

“I know I should. Like, not just because it's fucking wrong, but because I don't put up with shit like this. Ever.”

“Yeah, you're not much for second chances. And nobody puts baby in the corner.” Danielle tweaked her nose playfully.

Ava rolled her eyes. “I've given second chances before,” She said, affronted.

“Remember that time you let me borrow your Tommy record?”

“Yeah, and now it's all fucking scratched on Acid Queen?”

“So you say.” Danielle admonished slowly, one hand raised.

“You heard it!” Ava exclaimed, throwing her hands up.

“You're missing the point. Have I borrowed a record since?”

“Fuck no.”

“But you're still fucking Billie Joe?” Danielle challenged, satisfied with her point. Ava mulled that one over. What was it about him that kept her coming back? She was used to being the bait, not the fish.

“Fuck, it's complicated.” Ava groaned, then berated herself for being such a cliché.

Danielle scoffed. “Complicated my ass. For some reason, you forgive him for being an adulterous bastard, but refuse to overlook one little scratch-”

“That was my favorite song.” Ava interjected pointedly. “And I did not forgive him, I just, god-”

“Got all hot and bothered by his sexiness and went for a fuck on the floor?”

“How'd you know I fucked him on the floor?” Ava arched an eyebrow in bemusement, momentarily forgetting about all of her self imposed guilt.

“I didn't, and I really wish I could return to blissful naivety of ten seconds ago. I was really just going for effect with that one.”

“Nice.” Ava muttered sarcastically.

The two were silent, contemplating. “So is this one of those times when no matter what I fucking tell you, you're going to stick to your own hard headed ways?”

“I have to,” Ava said, resigned. “I've got to take what I can get.”

Danielle shook her head and gave a hard laugh. “I never thought I'd hear you say something like that.”

“The thought of not having him at all hurts more than having to share him.” She raised a shoulder and sighed. When had her life turned into the plot of an HBO series? Pretty soon she was going to be that girl who runs to the airport and trips.

Un-fucking-believable.

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

Billie Joe found Ava tuning her guitar just as the doors were opening. She had about an hour until they took the stage, but she needed something to keep her hands busy. He watched her, head bent down in concentration, listening to each string ring out then delicately turning the pegs.

“Hey, you.” He greeted, stopping in front of her.

She looked up and smiled. “Hey.”

“What's up?” He asked, stepping closer, slowly. He wondered if she'd let him touch her, or if she'd go all berserk and run away screaming after that afternoon.

“Tuning.” She smirked, lifting the neck of the guitar for him to inspect it. She played a quick melody to make sure the strings were properly in place, then swung the guitar around and put it on the floor next to her.

“No shit,” He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“For real?” She asked, pursing her lips.

“Of course,” He smiled, encouraging.

“You've got me in a weird spot, Billie.” She spoke slowly, then watched him cautiously, anxious about his reaction. She almost looked like she was anticipating a blow and dancing around any words that might offend him. “And I'm trying to sort all of this shit out, I really am.”

He sighed. “I know, I wish things were different.”

“Do you really?” She challenged, giving voice to the argument in her head. What if he wasn't married? Would she still be worth his time? Or was she just a fun and exciting chase to spice up his redundant marriage?

“Of course. I wish that I could take everything back-”

“Everything?” She bit her lip. As much as she was hurting, she'd never give up the memories.

“No, not everything. I wish that we could just go back to the way we were two days ago.”

“You were married then, too.” She pointed out, in case he'd managed to forget.

He bent down in front of her. His face was close to hers, but she was determined not to fold this time.

“Can't we pretend?” He pleaded. Her breath wavered on that one.

“It doesn't really work like that.”

“It could,” He begged, so out of character. He had always thought he was above all of those things.

“Billie-” She reprimanded softly, tired.

“I know it's a lot to ask.”

“How is this supposed to fucking work? I'm going to be jealous, you're going to be tired and hate me-”

“I could never hate you.”

“You haven't had the chance yet.”

“It's not an easy answer. Think about it, okay?” He brushed her jaw line, then her cheek bone, just below her eye. Her eyes fluttered closed at his touch. He stood up, kissing her temple. “Meet me at my room tonight if you decide.” He took her hand and unfolded it, placing a crumpled scrap of paper in her palm. She opened her eyes and stared at it for one beat, then up at Billie for another.

He lifted a shoulder and smiled with half of his moth, turned and left.

Ava stared at the paper, hoping that it would give her the answer. It just glared back at her with the scrawled number105. If she went, would she be a total, pathetic, groupie whore? And if she didn't, well, would that be her biggest regret to date?

She worried the paper between her fingers, feeling the creases where Billie had folded it. She already knew her answer.

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

At two in the morning, Ava stood outside of room 105, shuffling her feet against the carpet. She looked at the worn piece of paper in her hands, triple checking the room number written in black pen with the metal one adorning the door. She brushed her knuckles against it gently, and waited.

Billie Joe tried to act surprised when he opened the door and saw Ava standing there.

She bit her lip and lifted a shoulder.

“Aves,” He greeted, eyes wide. “You came.”

“Stop that.” She scolded. “You knew what I was going to pick all along.”

He had the good grace to look sheepish. “I knew.” He stepped out of the doorway, making room for her to pass. She brushed past him as he closed the door, locking the chain. When he turned around she was sitting on the back edge of the couch, looking a little lost. He wondered what exactly that was all about.

“One condition.” She said, holding up her index finger.

He arched an eyebrow, signaling for her to continue.

“We're pretending, right?” She scrutinized him.

“Yeah,” He answered, smiling but confused.

“Then we're going all out. You're not Billie Joe Armstrong Green Day front man, and I most certainly am not Ava, bitchy, wank material singer of Blackbird. You're not married, I am not a slut, and we don't have to deal with any outside bullshit. Capisce?”

“What made you decide?”

“I figure I'm going to hell anyway, I might as well have some fun in the process and do it thoroughly.” He gave her a weird look; she sounded like a freak. She shrugged it off, resigned to her own opinions. “Enough about that. When are you gonna kiss me like you're supposed to?” She beckoned him with her finger.

“Can't argue with that.” He walked to her, separating the space between them and grabbed her stomach, tickling her after she'd already puckered her lips in anticipation. She squirmed and laughed, falling over onto the other side of the couch. He dove on top of her, pinning her against the sofa, hands grabbing any piece of her that he could get his hands on. She squealed and laughed, limbs flailing against him. Her hand hit him in the nose, and he snapped back.

“Oh, fuck!” He sat back on his haunches, hands covering his nose. Ava sat up between his legs, hand over her gaping mouth.

“Shit, are you okay?” She tried to stifle the laughter, but it escaped from her lips. He took a few deep breaths, cringing.

“You love it when I'm in pain, don't you?” He asked when he'd found his voice.

“And what if I do?” She bit her lip, shaking from laughter.

“You're going to pay for that.” He stated, trying to make it sound as heated as possible with his hand covering his nose.

“I was counting on that,” She countered, grinning from ear to ear.

He pushed her backwards, grabbing her arms and pining them above her head.

“You really want to try that again?” She asked as he leaned in.

“I'm a slow learner.” He smirked, dipping his face to kiss her. He kissed her bottom lip, then ran his tongue along it's edge. She opened her mouth, sucking on his upper lip. He pecked her lips once, then ran his along her jaw line and down her neck. His nose brushed her skin and she smelled like the ocean. His hands ran along the smooth skin on her arms, down to her face. He looked at her.

“Good,” She let out a raspy breath. “'Cause we've got plenty of time.”