Status: Awesome.
Bastards of Young
You Really Got Me
I woke up the next morning without a clue as to where I was. Laying there in a confused daze it all slowly started to come back – Tre, the bathroom, the alcohol and … “Billie?” I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes only to discover the bed empty and disheveled. “Damn it…,” I muttered at the missed opportunity of thanking him for helping me out. I began to look around for a pen and paper when I found a note sitting next to my shoes that I didn’t remember taking off.
DON’T! Leave!
I will be right back.
Sit…stay... good girl.
He had signed his name with a mischievously smiling face next to it. Grinning and shaking my head, I took a seat back on my bed and waited. With the light from the tiny windows pouring in, I was able to get a better look at the room than I had the night before. I quickly came to the conclusion I hadn’t miss much.
The floor was probably an off-white carpet, but now it was stained beige with cigarette burns acned all across it. The walls were bare wooden panels, except for what looked to be a few photographs taped above his bed. Next to the door was an old boom box with tapes stacked next to it and a trash bag that I assumed held the food boxes that had disappeared. Unable to resist the curiosity, I wondered over to the tapes and started to pick through them.
I knew a few of the records – a dubbed copy of Let It Be? No surprise there. Zen Arcade? Awesome. But, a lot of the tapes were mixes with bands I had never heard – only read about in the occasional MRR I was lucky enough to come across back home. Then there were some tapes that looked as if they were made by Billie himself with dates and unfamiliar song titles written on the tape lines.
I was reading the track listing of one of the tapes when the door swung open and there stood Billie with a tray of coffee in his right hand and a Dunkin’ Doughnuts bag dangling from his mouth. For a moment he looked surprised to see me on the floor, but then his face cracked into a grin. “Bought breakfast,” he said brightly after removing the bag from his mouth. He took a seat next to me on the floor and began laying out our meal.
“Wow,” I couldn’t help, but marvel at the plethora of doughnuts appearing from the bag.
“Yeah, I wasn’t sure what your favorite was, so I just bought like five different kinds. Take whatever you want. Oh, and I hope you like coffee,” he removed a cup from the tray and handed it to me, “You seem like a two sugars and milk kind of girl.”
“Perfect,” I said as I took a sip, enjoying the warmth that filled me. “I really need to find a way to thank you for all of this, man,” I said with a contented sigh.
A devilish smile lit up Billie’s face and I was reminded as he uttered, “I do have a few jobs you could do for me,” that he was still a guy, despite his sweet behavior.
Laughing, I gave him a playful shove. “You’re an asshole!” Billie merely winked and took a big bite out of a strawberry icing doughnut. I grabbed a cream filled one and followed suit.
“Did you see anything you like?”
I stared like a deer in headlights for a few moments. “Huh?”
“The tapes?”
“Oh! Yeah – Let It Be, of course.”
“Of course.”
“And Zen Arcade--.”
“You like Husker Du?”
“Some of their stuff.”
“Righteous. What about those mixes? Did you know any of the bands on there?” That look of electric excitement in his eyes had become so intense as he continued to munch on his doughnut that I was worried his eyeballs might pop.
“I’ve read about most of them in MaximumRockandRoll, but I haven’t actually heard any of them.”
I almost expected Billie to start jumping up and down while clapping his hands and squealing. All he did though was exclaim, “I’ll make you a tape!”
“Awesome!”
We sat in a slightly uncomfortable silence for a bit. As I took the last bite of what I decided would be my last doughnut, I thought it would be a good time to drop a comment about the tapes I thought might be made by Billie.
Again his eyes light up, “Oh, yeah! I did those. I play in a band; we actually just put out our second record last week and holy God it’s doing awesome.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it sold 10,000 copies the first day!”
“Shit!”
“I know right,” he had started to talk at the speed of light, “We’re going on tour in like March when we get some more money saved up – maybe hit Europe around April or May. It’s so surreal, you know?” He looked more like an adorable little kid flipping out over a new G.I. Joe rather than an apparently up and coming rock star. I couldn’t help, but almost adore the guy.
“What’s the name,” I asked smiling widely.
“Green Day,” he said it simply, but you could hear the pride dripping from every syllable. So, I guess it’s understandable that he looked so angry after I froze for a split second before busting into a fit of laughter. “What the fuck is so funny?” His face had darkened and it looked as if he were about to shoot daggers from his eyes.
Putting my hand lightly over my mouth and did my best to recapture a straight face. “Billie, I sear to God it isn’t you.” He sat there expectantly, unflinching in his look of loathing. “When I was like 18 this really weirdo guy that went to college with my older sister made me a tape – it was full of really corny, cliché love songs --.”
“And we were on it,” his face had softened slightly, but just slightly.
“Oh yeah. And so, when I rejected the guy because I had my eye on some one else he wouldn’t leave me alone! I finally snapped and just totally berated him in front of some other kids at a party… I mean, the guy cried!”
Billie winced as if he felt the guy’s pain. “Ouch….”
“Yeah, not my best moment, but hey karma – the guy tells his friend, who wrote for this really big underground zine in the area, the whole thing. Well, that guy publishes it all in the zine along with my picture and my address.” Billie’s eyes went wide and he let out a nervous laugh. “I know, right? I’m still getting letters, Billie!” I grabbed his shoulders and shook him gently to try and coax out the laughter that was threatening to bubble over. “It. Will. Never. End!”
It did the trick and all remnants of the loathing look left his face much to my pleasure. The thought flashed in my mind that I wouldn’t make it without Billie around. “I’m sorry; that’s awful… but hilarious,” he put his hand on my forearm tenderly. I took this as a hint to remove my hands from his shoulders, which I did with slight embarrassment. “So, what was the song,” he asked after a beat.
“ ‘1000 Hours.’”
“Aw, shit… I’m sorry,” he chuckled again, putting his hand over his eyes. “That’s some seriously corny shit.”
“Eh, it was one of the better ones,” I lied. Billie gave me a look through his fingers like he knew it too. “Well,” I said heavily, “I’ve got a lot I need to figure out today… thanks for everything though. Really. Jobs aside, I do need to pay you back somehow.”
He crinkled up a napkin that had been holding his doughnut and threw it at me. “Don’t worry about it, Jean. I’ve enjoyed it.” We grinned at each other until Billie continued, “Are you coming back tonight?”
“Probably, if it’s okay and all.”
“Fuck yes, it is!”
“Cool,” I said standing up and stretching. I grabbed my shoes and took a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Um,” Billie said heavily, “Don’t take this the wrong way… its just a thought… but my mom lives kind of near by and she has a working shower. Not that you smell, but --.”
“It’s cool, Billie,” I interrupted with a wave of my hand, “I know, but I need to do some panhandling anyway… might as well make my filth work for me, you know, don’t want to look too healthy and happy go lucky.”
Billie just shook his head with a smirk and reached into his pocket, “Here, have my last quarter.” He chucked the silver my way.
“You sure,” I asked, catching it.
“Yep.”
“You’re golden, Billie,” I gave him a quick hug. Before he could wrap his arms around me I was out the door with a slightly exasperated, mostly amused, “You’re welcome,” echoing behind me.
Outside I clambered excitedly into the phone booth. Sliding the quarter into the slot, I dialed Jimmy’s number. I waited with baited breathe as the phone rang. After a few seconds a worried voice answered, “Jean?”
“Jimmy!”
“Thank God, what the fuck happened?” I hadn’t heard Jim sound this serious since the time my sister, Sam, slid into a barbed wired fence while sledding on my uncle’s farm when I was six.
“Some asshole disconnected the call, but look what was your plan B? I don’t have a lot of time.”
“Okay, I have a friend at this place, 1408 Records. His name’s Rodney… he’s this old hippie, you’ll like him,” I grinned into the receiver, “I called him last night and told him about what happened, so he’s on the look out. Just go to 1408 Walker Street and tell him who you are, okay?”
“1408 Walker Street, gottcha. Why didn’t you set me up with this guy earlier?”
“He called me up the day you got to San Fran and he just mentioned in passing that he needed help.”
“Oh, well… tell Mom and Dad hey and that I love them and all that standard stuff.”
“Sure, just for the love of God call Mom yourself when you can. She’s making my eye twitch.”
I laughed and agreed I would.
“Love you, Big Brother.”
“Love you, Twerp.” With that he hung up the phone.
I stood outside the record shop, shifting my weight nervously. “You got this,” I mumbled to myself. Pushing the door open I was greeted with the musty smell of second hand records. My jaw dropped at the rows upon rows of vinyl stretching from wall to wall. Original gig posters for Woodstock, Monterey, the Kinks, the Sex Pistols and innumerable other bands wallpapered the walls. The cashier’s desk was at the front and empty. “Hello,” I called out.
There was a rustling at the back and I bearded guy resembling Gallagher emerged from a beaded doorway. “Oh, hi! You must be Jean… Jim’s sister, right?” He was wearing a tight faded yellow shirt and belle bottomed jeans with no shoes.
“Yep, that’s me! And you’re Rodney, right?” I held out my hand.
“That’s right, but we don’t shake hands here – we hug,” with that he enveloped me in a bear hug which I returned awkwardly. Stepping away I apologized for my smell and tried to explain. “Nah,” he interrupted good naturedly, “Its just nature’s scent.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking so I just went with it. He proceeded to take me through my duties – which were pretty standard: take inventory, work the cash register, put price tags on the records.
“I’ll need you Monday through Saturday from about 12ish to like 8…ish. I go out a lot on business, so you’ll be in charge of the store frequently. I’m thinking minimum to start out… just to make sure this whole gig works out. Sound groovy?”
I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face. “Sounds way groovy, man!”
DON’T! Leave!
I will be right back.
Sit…stay... good girl.
He had signed his name with a mischievously smiling face next to it. Grinning and shaking my head, I took a seat back on my bed and waited. With the light from the tiny windows pouring in, I was able to get a better look at the room than I had the night before. I quickly came to the conclusion I hadn’t miss much.
The floor was probably an off-white carpet, but now it was stained beige with cigarette burns acned all across it. The walls were bare wooden panels, except for what looked to be a few photographs taped above his bed. Next to the door was an old boom box with tapes stacked next to it and a trash bag that I assumed held the food boxes that had disappeared. Unable to resist the curiosity, I wondered over to the tapes and started to pick through them.
I knew a few of the records – a dubbed copy of Let It Be? No surprise there. Zen Arcade? Awesome. But, a lot of the tapes were mixes with bands I had never heard – only read about in the occasional MRR I was lucky enough to come across back home. Then there were some tapes that looked as if they were made by Billie himself with dates and unfamiliar song titles written on the tape lines.
I was reading the track listing of one of the tapes when the door swung open and there stood Billie with a tray of coffee in his right hand and a Dunkin’ Doughnuts bag dangling from his mouth. For a moment he looked surprised to see me on the floor, but then his face cracked into a grin. “Bought breakfast,” he said brightly after removing the bag from his mouth. He took a seat next to me on the floor and began laying out our meal.
“Wow,” I couldn’t help, but marvel at the plethora of doughnuts appearing from the bag.
“Yeah, I wasn’t sure what your favorite was, so I just bought like five different kinds. Take whatever you want. Oh, and I hope you like coffee,” he removed a cup from the tray and handed it to me, “You seem like a two sugars and milk kind of girl.”
“Perfect,” I said as I took a sip, enjoying the warmth that filled me. “I really need to find a way to thank you for all of this, man,” I said with a contented sigh.
A devilish smile lit up Billie’s face and I was reminded as he uttered, “I do have a few jobs you could do for me,” that he was still a guy, despite his sweet behavior.
Laughing, I gave him a playful shove. “You’re an asshole!” Billie merely winked and took a big bite out of a strawberry icing doughnut. I grabbed a cream filled one and followed suit.
“Did you see anything you like?”
I stared like a deer in headlights for a few moments. “Huh?”
“The tapes?”
“Oh! Yeah – Let It Be, of course.”
“Of course.”
“And Zen Arcade--.”
“You like Husker Du?”
“Some of their stuff.”
“Righteous. What about those mixes? Did you know any of the bands on there?” That look of electric excitement in his eyes had become so intense as he continued to munch on his doughnut that I was worried his eyeballs might pop.
“I’ve read about most of them in MaximumRockandRoll, but I haven’t actually heard any of them.”
I almost expected Billie to start jumping up and down while clapping his hands and squealing. All he did though was exclaim, “I’ll make you a tape!”
“Awesome!”
We sat in a slightly uncomfortable silence for a bit. As I took the last bite of what I decided would be my last doughnut, I thought it would be a good time to drop a comment about the tapes I thought might be made by Billie.
Again his eyes light up, “Oh, yeah! I did those. I play in a band; we actually just put out our second record last week and holy God it’s doing awesome.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it sold 10,000 copies the first day!”
“Shit!”
“I know right,” he had started to talk at the speed of light, “We’re going on tour in like March when we get some more money saved up – maybe hit Europe around April or May. It’s so surreal, you know?” He looked more like an adorable little kid flipping out over a new G.I. Joe rather than an apparently up and coming rock star. I couldn’t help, but almost adore the guy.
“What’s the name,” I asked smiling widely.
“Green Day,” he said it simply, but you could hear the pride dripping from every syllable. So, I guess it’s understandable that he looked so angry after I froze for a split second before busting into a fit of laughter. “What the fuck is so funny?” His face had darkened and it looked as if he were about to shoot daggers from his eyes.
Putting my hand lightly over my mouth and did my best to recapture a straight face. “Billie, I sear to God it isn’t you.” He sat there expectantly, unflinching in his look of loathing. “When I was like 18 this really weirdo guy that went to college with my older sister made me a tape – it was full of really corny, cliché love songs --.”
“And we were on it,” his face had softened slightly, but just slightly.
“Oh yeah. And so, when I rejected the guy because I had my eye on some one else he wouldn’t leave me alone! I finally snapped and just totally berated him in front of some other kids at a party… I mean, the guy cried!”
Billie winced as if he felt the guy’s pain. “Ouch….”
“Yeah, not my best moment, but hey karma – the guy tells his friend, who wrote for this really big underground zine in the area, the whole thing. Well, that guy publishes it all in the zine along with my picture and my address.” Billie’s eyes went wide and he let out a nervous laugh. “I know, right? I’m still getting letters, Billie!” I grabbed his shoulders and shook him gently to try and coax out the laughter that was threatening to bubble over. “It. Will. Never. End!”
It did the trick and all remnants of the loathing look left his face much to my pleasure. The thought flashed in my mind that I wouldn’t make it without Billie around. “I’m sorry; that’s awful… but hilarious,” he put his hand on my forearm tenderly. I took this as a hint to remove my hands from his shoulders, which I did with slight embarrassment. “So, what was the song,” he asked after a beat.
“ ‘1000 Hours.’”
“Aw, shit… I’m sorry,” he chuckled again, putting his hand over his eyes. “That’s some seriously corny shit.”
“Eh, it was one of the better ones,” I lied. Billie gave me a look through his fingers like he knew it too. “Well,” I said heavily, “I’ve got a lot I need to figure out today… thanks for everything though. Really. Jobs aside, I do need to pay you back somehow.”
He crinkled up a napkin that had been holding his doughnut and threw it at me. “Don’t worry about it, Jean. I’ve enjoyed it.” We grinned at each other until Billie continued, “Are you coming back tonight?”
“Probably, if it’s okay and all.”
“Fuck yes, it is!”
“Cool,” I said standing up and stretching. I grabbed my shoes and took a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Um,” Billie said heavily, “Don’t take this the wrong way… its just a thought… but my mom lives kind of near by and she has a working shower. Not that you smell, but --.”
“It’s cool, Billie,” I interrupted with a wave of my hand, “I know, but I need to do some panhandling anyway… might as well make my filth work for me, you know, don’t want to look too healthy and happy go lucky.”
Billie just shook his head with a smirk and reached into his pocket, “Here, have my last quarter.” He chucked the silver my way.
“You sure,” I asked, catching it.
“Yep.”
“You’re golden, Billie,” I gave him a quick hug. Before he could wrap his arms around me I was out the door with a slightly exasperated, mostly amused, “You’re welcome,” echoing behind me.
Outside I clambered excitedly into the phone booth. Sliding the quarter into the slot, I dialed Jimmy’s number. I waited with baited breathe as the phone rang. After a few seconds a worried voice answered, “Jean?”
“Jimmy!”
“Thank God, what the fuck happened?” I hadn’t heard Jim sound this serious since the time my sister, Sam, slid into a barbed wired fence while sledding on my uncle’s farm when I was six.
“Some asshole disconnected the call, but look what was your plan B? I don’t have a lot of time.”
“Okay, I have a friend at this place, 1408 Records. His name’s Rodney… he’s this old hippie, you’ll like him,” I grinned into the receiver, “I called him last night and told him about what happened, so he’s on the look out. Just go to 1408 Walker Street and tell him who you are, okay?”
“1408 Walker Street, gottcha. Why didn’t you set me up with this guy earlier?”
“He called me up the day you got to San Fran and he just mentioned in passing that he needed help.”
“Oh, well… tell Mom and Dad hey and that I love them and all that standard stuff.”
“Sure, just for the love of God call Mom yourself when you can. She’s making my eye twitch.”
I laughed and agreed I would.
“Love you, Big Brother.”
“Love you, Twerp.” With that he hung up the phone.
I stood outside the record shop, shifting my weight nervously. “You got this,” I mumbled to myself. Pushing the door open I was greeted with the musty smell of second hand records. My jaw dropped at the rows upon rows of vinyl stretching from wall to wall. Original gig posters for Woodstock, Monterey, the Kinks, the Sex Pistols and innumerable other bands wallpapered the walls. The cashier’s desk was at the front and empty. “Hello,” I called out.
There was a rustling at the back and I bearded guy resembling Gallagher emerged from a beaded doorway. “Oh, hi! You must be Jean… Jim’s sister, right?” He was wearing a tight faded yellow shirt and belle bottomed jeans with no shoes.
“Yep, that’s me! And you’re Rodney, right?” I held out my hand.
“That’s right, but we don’t shake hands here – we hug,” with that he enveloped me in a bear hug which I returned awkwardly. Stepping away I apologized for my smell and tried to explain. “Nah,” he interrupted good naturedly, “Its just nature’s scent.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking so I just went with it. He proceeded to take me through my duties – which were pretty standard: take inventory, work the cash register, put price tags on the records.
“I’ll need you Monday through Saturday from about 12ish to like 8…ish. I go out a lot on business, so you’ll be in charge of the store frequently. I’m thinking minimum to start out… just to make sure this whole gig works out. Sound groovy?”
I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face. “Sounds way groovy, man!”
♠ ♠ ♠
THANK YOU!!!!