White Gold

This is a big job but that's okay, because you're mature enough to handle it. I'm putting all my faith in you, my man, and I know you can do it.

Frankito wasn't entirely sure what he had done to give his father the impression he was mature enough to handle something that carried this level of importance. In fact, just the day before, he had been told he wasn't mature enough to take care of his own cell phone, the value of which wasn't even in the same league as the treasures that were now weighing down the left hand pocket of his black dinner jacket. He wondered whether adults even realised how many mixed messages they tossed around without a thought, or how the hell he was expected to keep up with them.

He sighed, closing his hand around the small box inside his pocket, knuckles whitening around black velvet. His eyes darted around the plush hotel room that he stood, rigidly, in the centre of, as his grandmother continued to fiddle with his bow tie. She smelled like coconuts and sunscreen.

“Are you done yet?”

She stood, smiled, then smoothed his ash brown hair to one side.

“Yeah... you'll do.”

He reached up to tug, uncomfortably, at his collar, readjusting the tie in the process, and she rolled her eyes.

“When do I get to undo my tie and hang it 'round my neck?” he enquired, “It looks cooler that way.”

“Tonight. Basically, you wait 'til the adults get drunk and everybody else does it.”

He nodded, stuffing his left hand back in his pocket.

“Alright, I'll look out for that,” he promised, “Thanks, Grandma. I have to go... I'm awful busy today.”

She chuckled, as he spun on his heels and headed for the door.

“Okay, Sweetheart...” she called after him, “Don't ruin your clothes!”

The hotel lobby was already bustling with people, some of whom he didn't think he'd ever laid eyes on in his life before, some he couldn't imagine his world without. Amongst the laughter and chatter, the hugging and kissing, most of them didn't even notice the eight-year-old ducking and weaving his way through the crowd to the hotel's breakfast room, which had laid out refreshments for the invited guests.

Mike Dirnt was pacing by the window, a crumpled sheet of notepaper in his hands, lips moving silently as he practised lines that he knew by heart anyway. Across the room, Mike's daughter Estelle giggled with his own sister, Ramona, in identical dresses and with hair styled to perfection.

“Yo, yo, Frankie...”

He looked up into the smiling face of Jay Parker, who was balancing a drink and his baby daughter, her blue eyes scanning the room with wonder, one small hand gripping the lapel of her father's jacket. Jay was one of his father's best friends and Frankito liked him, because he was normal, and he was funny, and he had a seriously cool job, but mainly because he was such a totally nice guy.

“Heard you got a big job today, my friend. I'm looking forward to your moment later. Just don't lose anything, you know what I'm saying?”

“I won't. Thanks Jay.”

His little girl let out a giggle and Jay turned his face towards her in surprise.

“Who're you laughing at, Princess?” he demanded, “You think he's gonna mess it up?”

Jay stuck his tongue out at his daughter, then looked back at Frankito.

“You want to ignore Bella... she'll laugh at anything once she's had a few bottles.”

“Ha... right...” Frankito smiled, feeling for the box in his pocket again, as Jay continued on his way, giving him a rub on the head as he passed.

He sat down at one of the tables and took the box from his pocket, then set it down on the smooth, white tablecloth. He hadn't been able to stop taking it out and looking at it since it had first been placed in his care and he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he had never been given something so important before, or maybe he just wanted to make sure it was still there. Even when he picked the box up in both hands to pull it open, his brow furrowing a little at the gentle action, he half expected it to be empty. Thankfully, it wasn't.

There they were, nestled together on the cushion of white silk underneath, two perfect loops of white gold, glinting in the sunlight like pearls inside a clam. He picked up the first one using careful fingertips, turning it into the light to read the inscription on the inside.

Billie Joe Armstrong. 8/29/2011

He threaded it onto his finger, where it skipped around, glittering as it caught the light. The other one looked all wrong in the box by itself, so he picked that one up too.

Frank Edwin Wright. 8/29/2011

He watched the rings spin around on his fingers a few times, wondering why his father decided to use his real name on Billie Joe's wedding ring. He couldn't remember the last time anybody had called him Frank, except maybe his grandma, when she was mad at him for something. Thinking about it, that happened fairly often and he began to wonder if his grandma was the mastermind behind the whole wedding ring operation in the first place.

“You know... you should probably leave them in the box.”

He looked up. Joey Armstrong was smiling down at him, his hands in his pockets.

“You shouldn't have your hands in your pockets when you're wearing a tux,” Frankito retorted, because he had been reminded of this very fact himself by at least five different people that morning.

Joey smirked.

“I think ruining the line of my suit or whatever is probably secondary to the fucking rings spinning off of your finger into the stratosphere. You only have like another half hour, Frankito, keep 'em in the box, Dude.”

Frankito sighed, letting the rings slide off his finger into the box, which he snapped shut, then put back in his pocket. He always did whatever Joey said because Joey was sixteen and drove a car and his sister thought he was cool – and his sister didn't think anyone was cool.

“You're just jealous you don't have a job...” he mumbled, with a smile.

“I'm a grooms-man!”

“What's that?”

Joey paused.

“Just keep the damn rings in the box, Frankie.”

As he walked away, Frankito giggled.

Billie Joe's suite was on the sixth floor and the door was ajar when Frankito walked past. He crept closer, poking his head inside to see the guitarist standing in front of the full length mirror in a white tuxedo, scrutinising his reflection, with his head tilted to one side. Jamie stood next to him, in a deep red dress that Frankito thought made her look even prettier than usual. Not that he usually noticed such things, of course.

“I think you're all ready, Hon...” Jamie told Billie Joe, decidedly, turning him around and fixing a red button-hole flower to his lapel. “Do you feel ready?”

He inhaled, deeply, smoothing the front of his jacket.

“I think so,” he nodded, “... Do I look okay?”

She smiled, taking in the nervous apprehension in his green eyes. He looked a little pale all of a sudden, despite the summer tan to his skin, but even Frankito could see he looked strikingly handsome dressed up in white, his dark hair tousled and falling across his forehead.

“You look gorgeous,” Jamie promised him, “Quit worrying.”

Billie Joe smiled, dropping his eyes modestly, gently fingering the flower that now adorned the front of his jacket.

“Did you finish up with Tre? Is he ready too? I mean... does he look...”

“-Hot enough to stop hearts at twenty paces? Trust me, that's all taken care of.”

Billie Joe grinned, reaching out to pull Jamie into a hug and she wrapped her arms, briefly, around his neck, before backing away again, her eyes warning.

“Save that for later,” she smiled, “If I get make-up on that jacket, I'll die.”

Billie Joe laughed, as they both looked up and noticed Frankito standing in front of them, his hands in his pockets and his patent shoes scuffing on the carpet.

“Hey, Bud...” Billie Joe smiled, “Looking good. You all ready?”

Frankito nodded.

“How come we have to wear a flower?”

Billie Joe shrugged.

“It's tradition. Why, you don't like it?”

“I think mine looks girly. How come mine is pink? Can't I at least get a red one like yours? I mean... the fact I have to wear a flower is bad enough without it being pink...”

Jamie laughed.

“I hear you, Dude...” Billie Joe sympathised, before turning to Jamie. “Jame... can you fix my guy up with a more masculine flower?”

“Sure... she smiled, picking through the box on the dresser, “C'mere, Frankie... I don't have red but I have plain white?”

“Oh... that's okay, I guess.”

He stood still whilst she fixed it to his jacket, watching Billie Joe pace the room, nervously.

“Billie?”

“Hmm?”

“You know when you're married to my dad?”

“Yeah...”

“Does that mean I have to call you Dad too?”

Billie glanced up at the question, then laughed.

“Dude, you don't have to call me anything. You can call me what the hell you like.”

“What, anything?”

Billie Joe fixed him with a stern glance.

“... Within reason.”

Frankito paused, thoughtfully.

“How about 'Lieutenant Steel'?”

Jamie snorted, as she finished pinning the button-hole.

“I love it...” she giggled, while Billie Joe stared at him, a little taken-aback.

“Where the fuck did that come from?”

“He's a character in Ben Ten. He's cool.”

“Okay, then you know what? Just 'Billie' will be fine.”

Frankito grinned, turning around just in time to see the door open again, before Ramona swept inside.

“Guys,” she began, placing her hands on her hips, “What is taking you so long? This ceremony is supposed to happen in twenty minutes!”

“Honey, chill...” Billie Joe chuckled, “It's happening downstairs. We have plenty of time.”

“Besides,” Jamie put in, “It's okay for him to be fashionably late. When I got married I kept Jay waiting for at least fifteen minutes.”

“Yeah, man, that got boring,” Frankito commented, rolling his eyes at the memory.

Ramona shook her head, quietening her younger brother with a sweep of her hand.

“Hey, man... I'm the chief bridesmaid. No one is gonna be fashionably late on my watch.”

Jamie laughed.

“Sure, 'Mona, whatever you say.” She turned to Billie Joe with a grin. “I can't believe you put her ahead of me, I've had her breathing down my neck all day.”

Billie Joe smiled, sliding an arm around Ramona's waist when she stepped close enough to the mirror to inspect her eye make-up.

“Sorry, Babe... she's the only chick for the job.”

“The careers advisor at school told me I had excellent leadership qualities,” Ramona shrugged.

Billie Joe nodded, solemnly.

“Really?” Jamie giggled, “Is that because you won't take orders from anybody else?”

Frankito smiled, because Jamie really was one of the only people that seemed to get away with making fun of Ramona and it was one of the many reasons he liked her a lot.

“Alright,” Ramona announced, dramatically, apparently choosing to ignore Jamie's comment, “So, everything is set up. Dad is ready, the guests are down in the breakfast room, the minister is here – he called me Pumpkin, by the way, but I'm letting it go – the champagne is on ice... Frankito, do you still have the rings?”

Frankito scowled, feeling irritation boil up in his stomach.

“Yes!” he cried, indignantly, “Why is everybody so sure I'm gonna lose them?”

“Alright, chill, I was just asking...” The door opened again and she looked up. “Oh, great, Joey, I was looking for you.”

Learning this seemed to make Joey look a little nervous and, if he was honest, Frankito didn't blame him.

“Why?”

“Well, I was gonna give you a job. I'm delegating.”

Joey folded his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows at her.

“I have a job!”

“Right, right, grooms-man... what are you actually supposed to do?”

Joey stared at her.

“I'm... like...” he gave a sigh of frustration, letting his arms drop to his sides, “Dad, tell her!”

Billie Joe grinned, pulling his son against his side in a one-armed hug.

“You're supposed to greet people as they walk in and show them where to sit. Just make sure everybody is cool.”

“How do I know where they sit?”

“Tre's friends and family are on the right, our folks are on the left. Any grandmas go at the front.”

Joey frowned.

“What if they're friends with both of you just the same? Like ninety percent of the people here?”

Billie Joe paused, thoughtfully.

“Then... ask 'em which of us they like best.” he suggested, with a grin, “Just... make sure there's more people on my side.”

Tre's room was on the floor below and Frankito went there next, on Jamie's orders, because she hadn't seen him, or Jason White, in an over an hour and she needed somebody to make sure they weren't getting into any kind of trouble. It might have been only one floor, but Frankito decided to take the elevator anyway, partly because all this excitement and responsibility had left him feeling a little tired, but mainly because it was much more fun than taking the stairs.

It arrived with a friendly Ding! before the metallic doors slid, gently, open. There was only one person inside it and Frankito welcomed him with a grin.

“Jake...”

Jakob Armstrong was one of Frankito's best friends. Even though he was a few years older, he didn't act all high and mighty about it, plus, he was really good at baseball. Once, some kids from Jakob's school had picked on Frankito on his way home and Jakob got thrown out of his English class the next day for telling the kids that, if they ever made fun of him again, he would kick their asses. This was especially cool in Frankito's opinion because he wasn't sure Jakob would know where to even start with kicking somebody's ass.

“Hey, Frankie. You goin' up or down?”

“Down. To see my Dad. I need to bring him downstairs, it's almost time.”

“I'll come with,” Jakob told him, pressing the button on the wall. “Hey, you have the rings, right?”

Frankito nodded.

“Wanna see?”

“Sure.”

Frankito took the box out of his pocket and pulled it open and Jakob leaned closer to look inside.

“Awesome,” Jakob commented, as Frankito took one of them out and held it up in front of his eyes. He peered at it, with interest. “How'd they get the name inside?”

Frankito frowned, realising that he hadn't even thought of that.

“I don't know,” he admitted, curiously, “Maybe a machine does it.”

“Or maybe a guy with a really steady hand.”

Frankito looked thoughtful, as he held it up to the light coming from the fitting in the ceiling of the elevator.

“But... how would he get it so perfect?”

The elevator reached their floor and stopped, suddenly. The boys felt the floor underneath them shudder as the doors skipped open and Jakob reached out to cover Frankito's hand just a second too late. They both watched, wide-eyed, as the ring dropped from Frankito's fingers and bounced, once, on the elevator floor, before heading straight out into the hallway.

“Shit..” Jakob muttered, heading after it.

It must have hit the floor of the elevator hard enough to give it some lift, because it cleared the carpeted hallway floor and then hit the wall opposite, which sent it flying off at an angle with both boys running after it. Frankito tried to follow it with his eyes but now his view was obstructed by people and he groaned as he tried, desperately, to catch sight of it again.

“Where'd it go, where'd it go, where'd it-”

“What are you two boys playing? You want to be careful running around up here, y'know.”

Frankito's panic was interrupted, when he looked up to where the familiar voice was coming from.

“Brittney...”

This was not good. Brittney was married to Mike and Mike was not the sort of person that would find losing a wedding ring funny. Mike had been practising his best man speech for three weeks. She laughed at the expression on the boys' faces.

“Guys, what's wrong..?”

“Nothing,” Jakob told her, a little breathless, and Frankito nodded his agreement.

She raised an eyebrow. That was another thing about Brittney; she wasn't stupid. Sometimes he wished his parents might start hanging out with people he could actually get shit past, rather than women like Brittney and Jamie and, God forbid, Lara, that could read guilt in his eyes from five miles away. Still, Brittney smiled, which he guessed meant she wasn't picking this particular battle. He stuffed the ring box back in his pocket.

“Right... well, 'nothing' looks like it's gotten you all worked up. Make sure you don't ruin your outfits, you guys look great.” She looked down to the floor, which her small son, Brixton was currently exploring on his hands and knees. “That goes for you, too, Mister... c'mon, up you get...”

Brixton reached for her hand and she pulled him to his feet, his fingers in his mouth, as his blue eyes darted around the hallway.

“Alright, we're gonna go downstairs and take up our seats and then... Julia, hi!”

Frankito turned to Jakob, panic-stricken, once Brittney was suitably distracted.

“Jake... what are we gonna... they're gonna kill me... like, actually gonna kill me dead... I'll be grounded 'til I'm eighteen!”

Jakob swallowed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Alright man... we have to stay calm... I'll go this way, you go that way... we'll find it, it can't have gone far.”

“Frankito, Frankito...”

Frankito looked up at Brixton's babbling, then took another deep breath. This was no time to be making conversation with two-year-olds.

“Later, Brix...” he muttered, before heading off down the hall, his eyes on the floor.

How the hell he was going to break the news if he couldn't find it, he didn't know. He couldn't even decide whether Billie would be the safest bet, or his father. In normal circumstances, his dad was more likely to get mad at him but Billie Joe had put a lot of effort into making sure this day was perfect in every way and he had a feeling losing one of the wedding rings was exactly the kind of potential disaster that had been keeping him awake at night.

“Frankito...”

Brixton had followed him.

“Go back to your Mommy, Brixton, I'm busy.”

“What you doin''?”

“Trying to find something,” he explained, “Something real, real important.”

“What?”

“It's a secret.”

“Oh.”

Brixton followed him for a few more paces, then tugged on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Frankito.”

"What, Buddy?”

“I found treasure. Look it!”

Frankito's jaw dropped, as Brixton held out a pudgy hand, to display a glinting ring that gave him so much relief, he almost cried.

“Oh, man... thank goodness!”

Brixton frowned, when Frankito plucked it from the palm of his hand.

“Hey! That's mine!”

“Sorry, man, I don't think so... I gotta run. Jake!"

Brittney turned around when her son started screaming in indignation, but the two young boys were already tearing off into the distance.

“Hey... it's my little ringbearer!” Tre greeted, when Jakob and Frankito finally made it to his room. “Frodo-ito.”

“Huh. Very funny...” Frankito muttered, surveying the room. His dad was sprawled on the bed with a beer in his hand and Jason was sitting on the floor with a drink of his own, next to Jay, who was trying to pin a flower into Bella's hair.

“Ah, don't be grouchy, c'mere...” Tre grinned, spreading his arms, which is the universal signal for bounding across the room and pouncing on your father's stomach. He groaned, as Frankito slid off of him onto the bedspread, giggling. “Watch the hair. You ruin it and Jamie will freakin' murder us all in our beds.”

“We had to come get you,” Jakob explained, “You're meant'a be down in the hall, Dad's ready.”

“Does he look cute?”

Jakob raised an eyebrow.

“I'm not sure how you want me to answer that.”

“Have you been drinking beer?” Frankito enquired, tipping the bottle in his father's hands, so he could read the label.

“It's to calm his nerves,” Jay explained, finally deciding the hair would do as it was, “It's medicinal.”

“He doesn't have any nerves,” Jakob pointed out and Tre laughed.

“Oh, man...” Jason grinned at the drummer, “Has your dad given you his wedding-night pep-talk yet today? Or d'you think he decided that third time around you probably had it covered?”

Tre grinned, taking another sip of his beer.

“No, I was half-expecting it... but I guess he decided that, this time, it wasn't really his area.”

Jay laughed, and Frankito wrinkled his nose because he almost knew what that joke meant and almost was enough.

“C'mon, Man...” he groaned, taking his dad's hand and doing his best to haul him off of the bed, “If you don't get your ass downstairs, you're gonna keep Ramona waiting...”

And that was all the encouragement anybody needed.

The hall was filled with flowers, light-hearted chatter and a whispering sense of anticipation. Frankito sat at the front, next to his father, who was staring straight ahead with his hands folded in his lap. Frankito kept one hand in the pocket of his jacket, wrapped around the box. Mike sat on the other side of Tre and the pair had been sharing jokes and hushed giggles only moments before but now the music had started – which was really just Jason White on his guitar but it sounded pretty sweet - and everything, all of a sudden, felt very serious.

The minister told everybody to stand and Frankito turned around as he did so, to see Billie Joe walk through the door at the entrance, his white suit stark against the flush of deep red silk that followed him. His hand held tightly onto Ramona's, who walked next to him, smiles on both of their faces as they laid eyes on Tre at the front of the room. Over their shoulders, Frankito could see Jamie, Brittney and Estelle following close behind.

Frankito looked around him, at the beaming faces of the congregation. His grandma was crying already and Billie Joe's mother sat by her side, fumbling in her bag for a tissue, which she passed over with a smile, before looking for another and dabbing at her own eyes.

He looked over at Jay, who was sitting with Lara and Jason Freese, with Bella and Brixton between them. He watched Jay wink at Jamie as she passed and Jamie grinned back. Then he leaned down to whisper something into Bella's ear and she smiled, reaching up to pull on his tie, as she watched her mother follow Billie Joe down the aisle. Behind them, Joey and Jakob's mother, Adrienne, sat and watched just the same, a smile on her gentle features. Frankito's own mom was there too, and when she caught his eye and gave him a little wave and a smile, he felt a spark of relief in his stomach because part of him hadn't been a hundred percent sure that she was really going to show up. Still, there she was, and she looked happy and pretty, and that made everything even better.

Tre stepped forward, when Billie Joe and Ramona made it to the front, kissing Ramona's cheek quickly before reaching out to take Billie Joe's hand. As the bridesmaids peeled away and sat on the front row, Frankito watched his father's grin broaden, before he pulled Billie Joe closer and wrapped his arms around his body. Billie Joe smiled into Tre's shoulder as their hug tightened and there was a ripple of emotion from the watching congregation when the minister cleared his throat , looking a little amused, and they stepped apart, returning to their positions with shy smiles.

As Frankito watched them, standing hand-in-hand, he listened to the minister say a lot of things that he didn't really understand. Things about why marriage was important and special, no matter of who was marrying who, and how beautiful it was to promise your love to another person forever, in front of all of the people that matter the most in the world to you. It didn't matter, though, that he didn't understand it all, because all he needed to do was look at his Dad and Billie, their fingers wound together just as tightly as he was holding the box in his pocket, like they were afraid that if they let each other go they might lose each other, and suddenly it all seemed to make sense. He watched the way their eyes darted from the speaker every so often, sneaking glances at each other and grinning when they caught the other's gaze. He couldn't be sure they were even listening to what was being said, if he was honest.

Then they had to say their vows and Tre declared his whole name -“I, Frank Edwin Wright the Third...” - and Frankito heard Estelle giggle on the other side of the aisle between them, which earned her a playful swat across the head from Frank Edwin Wright the Second, who was sitting right behind her. Frankito just felt glad that three little letters had kept him from getting stuck with being the fourth.

Afterwards, Billie Joe said that all of his favourite memories were ones he shared with Tre, because nobody could make him laugh like Tre could and no one else could help him see a way out when he got crazy and everything felt like it was falling apart around him. Tre told Billie Joe that he thought he was beautiful and that everything that came from him was beautiful, and that he felt like just standing next to him made him a better person than he could be on his own. Billie Joe promised Tre that they could deal with anything if they stuck together, even if they had to sell all his guitars and live in a bookmobile again. And Tre told Billie Joe that, together, they were perfect, exactly the way they were, because they ironed out each others weird kinks and reminded each other of how good life could be underneath all the crazy shit. He said it would always be like that, the two of them, even when they were old and the kids had left and they started driving more slowly and doing crossword puzzles. And then, Billie Joe told Tre that he loved him and really, that was all that needed to be said, because Tre kissed his fingers and everyone watching melted a little bit. Everyone besides Jason Freese, that was, who looked crestfallen because he had a fifty dollar wager going with Jamie that Billie Joe was going to be the first one of them to cry.

“Now...” the minister smiled, “Do we have the rings?”

Billie Joe and Tre turned around to look his way. So did Mike and so did the minister. Frankito reached back into his pocket and pulled out the black velvet box, which he opened very carefully.

His eyes widened a little, when he peered inside, then flicked up to his father, shimmering with panic. Billie Joe and Tre stared right back at him, expectantly, and he saw nerves dancing in his father's moist eyes. He could feel everybody's gaze upon him; the bridesmaids, the grooms-men, the guests in the congregation, and the air inside the room was suddenly so still and quiet that he was sure everyone was holding their breath.

“Frankito...” the minister spoke again, his voice coming out a little higher than before, “... Do you have the rings?”

Frankito turned the box around, slowly and deliberately, so they could see inside.

Then he grinned.

“Of course have the rings,” he told them.

Everybody seemed to breathe out all at once, filling the air with relief and laughter and Tre wiped a hand across his forehead, rolling his eyes, as Billie Joe side-swiped his new stepson with a grin.

“I don't know what the fuck I'm marryin' into...” he muttered under his breath, winking in Frankito's direction, and Frankito giggled as took the rings out of the box and held them up to the light for the very last time. Tre smiled, as his son gave the rings a little kiss, then passed them into the minister's hand.

He found himself keeping all his breath inside his chest, as he watched his father slide Billie Joe's ring onto his tattooed finger, then watched Billie Joe do the same to Tre, with mumbled repetition of the minister's lines. They stared at their fingers for a quiet moment, with everybody else staring too. The gentle silence was interrupted only by a couple of sniffs from the watching congregation, before they were announced as married and even Frankito couldn't quite believe it. Tre didn't need telling to kiss Billie Joe, he was reaching for him before the words were even out of the minister's mouth and Frankito clapped and whistled along with everybody else, as he watched them. Jamie didn't even look as though she cared that Billie Joe was messing up Tre's hair, she just smiled and wiped at her eyes, with Ramona holding on tightly to her hand.

Frankito watched the white-gold wedding rings catch the light as their fingers tangled together, feeling a strange flutter of something he hadn't ever felt before, somewhere deep inside him. They looked right there, right where they had just promised they would stay forever, more right than they had ever felt clutched inside his small fist. And forever seemed like an awfully long time to him, longer than he could even begin to imagine, but that didn't matter. He just hoped those rings stayed where they were for a really, really, really long time.