To know you is to hate you.

We had finally come to stop at a fancy hotel. Billie Joe, Tre, the Jason’s, the roadies and I all acquired room numbers and took great pleasure in going straight to said rooms. The following evening we had a gig and I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t fretting over Billie Joe’s current condition.

He hadn’t spoken about what had happened; in fact he hadn’t spoken to me at all. Tre was our only means of communication and, Christ bless him, the man was doing his best to keep us both claim. I was still pissed that Billie Joe or Fink or who-ever-the-fuck had said those things to me and I am guessing he is still pissed that he woke up with his ass hitting the floor.

The days had gone when we had to share a room but we were all in the same corridor. Tre took the room between mine and Billie’s. He kind of reminded me of a mothering hen trying to keep her fighting chicks apart. But we weren’t fighting as such; at least Billie Joe and I weren’t.

“Let’s get a drink!” Tre sang.

We had met out in the hallway again after leaving our bags in the rooms. Billie joe pursed his lips in thought. I caught him gazing in my direction but he looked away swiftly and blushed. That confused me.

“Yeah sure.” The singer mumbled.

“Great!”Tre slung an arm round each of our shoulders and pulled us in the bar’s general direction.

He had us sit in a booth near the back corner so he could check out some hot young ass residing at the bar itself. Billie and I sat opposite each other, each staring into our own drinks. It was Tre who got us both talking. He, being the little ray of sunshine that he was, melted the tension between us and somehow managed to make us forget about the afternoon’s unpleasantness.

What really can I say? He had a gift.

The two men got into a tough debate about some sort of television show and I was happy to let them banter on. It was as if nothing at all had ever happened to Billie Joe; the bandage was the only evidence of his injury. But how long would it last? How long until things fucked up?

I looked up and found myself staring at a lonely Billie Joe.

“Where’d he go?” I asked.

“To get himself some action.” Billie Joe smiled awkwardly, “So it’s just us.”

Moments passed before we began to engage in some sort o conversation. Sadly, it wasn’t one I had hoped for.

“What happened earlier Mike?” He asked.

“You went bat shit on me.” my voice was low and clam.

“I went bat shit on you?” he scoffed, “I fell asleep and wake up to being thrown around the fuckin’ room by you!”

“That’s not how it was BJ! You’re little head injury isn’t so fuckin little.”

“You callin’ me crazy?!”

“No.” I sighed, “BJ, I don’t know what’s wrong. But…those times when you are asleep – you aren’t. You’re someone else; two people actually.”

Billie Joe gazed down into his drink mournfully. He chewed at the edge of his lip and furrowed his brow.
“Billie Joe?”

His head snapped up and his eyes met mine.

“You’re kidding. Right? I mean you’re messin with me? This is one of those tour jokes we always play on each other? Like when I cut your hair?”

“No.” I shook my head sombrely and watched as his expression changed from that of confusion to utter angst.

He was my best friend and he knew I would never lie to him to this extent. A joke like this is just too intense. But yet, behind those emerald eyes, I could still see the cogs of his mind working hard.

“I’m not playing Billie Joe.” He gulped at the use of his full christian name, “You need to go to a doctor and get this ….problem seen about. Before something fucked up happens.”

“Something fucked up? Am I like some sort of Hulk or something?”

“You’re a violent terror one moment and a helpless pretty boy the next. What if that happens on stage BJ?! Think about it.”

To my surprise he snorted a laugh.

“Pretty boy? Sounds like me alright –“

“This isn’t a fuckin’ joke Billie Joe!” I slammed my fist on the table earning myself suspicious looks from the bar tender and a few other tenants.

I lowered my head and stared directly at my friend.

“Tre saw it too. And it’s only a matter of time before you take a turn in front of someone else. Now I know you’re not crazy, so does Tre and the Jason’s. But other people might not be so cool about it.”

“What do you suppose we do Mike? Put me in a funny farm? Send me to a shrink?”

“Fuck if I know BJ.” I growled, “But we need to do something pronto.”

Billie Joe stirred his drink with his pointer finger and watched as the liquid swirled in the glass. His expression was grave, a frown pinched his pink lips downwards and, for the first time, the man was showing his age of thirty and seven years. Watching a friend in this state of pain often makes you feel the same way; and by God I felt like a right dick.

After a few moments he got up from the table and, without saying a word, left the bar.