Billie Jo

“I’m going to Maine for a week.” Billie told Mike. “Don’t ask why.” She laughed and poked him gently in the chest. “I leave Thursday.” It was Tuesday.

Billie Jo and Mike were going to a movie. Adrienne was on a date with some guy she met at Taco Bell during the weekend. Mike paid for the tickets and Billie paid for the popcorn. She had two cans of soda in her purse. Mike wore jeans without holes and Billie wore her first low-cut shirt. The line of her cleavage was apparent.

Mike couldn’t stop staring.

“They don’t do tricks.” Billie said as the guy behind the counter pointed them toward the theatre. The employee fought a laugh as Mike blushed scarlet.

“But, Billie, they’re like . . . I mean . . . are they . . .”

Snorting, the girl grabbed Mike’s hand and pressed it to her chest. Those weren’t socks. “Happy now?” she said, pushing his hand away.

“I think I should see them.” Mike said. “Best friend privilege.”

“Oh, really?” Billie stuck her tongue out at him. “Should I go down on you, too? Best friend privilege and all that?”

“Why not?” Mike grinned as they scanned the theatre for seats. He put his hand on Billie Jo’s back as he lead her up the aisle. Her shirt was thin and he could see the outline of her bra through it. He gritted his teeth, not entirely thrilled with the idea of jerking off in the theatre’s men’s room.

“Here?” Billie asked, stopping abruptly.

“Sure.” Mike would have preferred further up, but there was a group of teenagers up there and he knew Billie wouldn’t like it.

They heard a whistle. Billie looked down and Mike looked up in time to see a girl smack her boyfriend in the arm. Mike grinned and sat down beside Billie. “You do look pretty.” he told her.

“Not slutty?” She stared at him desperately. Her eyes fell to her shirt.

“No.” Mike rolled his eyes. “They’re not big enough to be slutty any—Hey!” he cried, putting his hand up as Billie’s hit the back of his head.

“That was mean.” she said.

“I didn’t say they were bad anything. Just not huge.” Mike protested. “Anything over a handful’s a waste anyway.”

Billie smirked. “So why are all your dates in competition with Pamela Lee?”

“I don’t support discrimination.” Mike said. “I like those girls despite the waste of . . .” He blushed and Billie laughed.

“Aw, Modest Mike.” she teased as the lights dimmed.

It was somewhere between the gunfights and the boy falling for the girl. Somewhere between the villain and the screen goddess fucking. Billie grabbed Mike’s hand. Mike’s lips brushed her neck. Then came the kisses, one after another, desperate and carnivorous. Years of sexual tension finally exploding from two sets of lips.

And when the lights came on, Billie fell against Mike, clinging to his tee shirt. Uncertainly, Mike wrapped his arms around her. “That day at dinner before the club and Tre . . . it was supposed to be a date, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Mike admitted softly.

They stayed there like that until a worker came in and told them they needed to leave. Mike gave Billie his jacket as she’d left hers in the car. The drive to Billie’s house was quiet. Mike walked her to the door and kissed her. Then he left.

He drove home, confused. He shouldn’t like Billie. She wasn’t ‘his type’. And where the fuck did that perfect set of tits come from? And what was up with . . .

Maine.

Mane. She must’ve done something in Maine to make her all . . . girly. So what was she doing there this time? Was she going to be a real girl soon?

Mike felt guilty as soon as that thought entered his head. Billie Jo was a girl. She was more girl than any he’d ever dated. Who else would make sure their lipgloss matched their shoes? All the girls he dated cared about was cigarettes, loud music, and getting off. Not Billie.

Never Billie.

* * *

Billie was at home, painting her nails. Her lips burned from Mike’s kisses. Mike! Mike liked her. And she wasn’t some blonde, punk, rock ‘n’ roll slut. And he liked her anyway.

The front door opened and Adrienne walked in. She tossed her purse on the table and sat down across from Billie. “Home early. Guessing you and Mikey didn’t go fool around at his place, then.”

“We kissed.” Billie said softly, but she was smiling.

Adrienne raised an eyebrow. “Cheek kisses don’t count, Billie.”

“On the neck and mouth.” Billie blushed. “During the movie. He . . . kind of got to second, too.” She blushed harder.

Adrienne’s eyes widened. “You little whore! First time out in that shirt and your little boyfriend’s already copped a feel.”

The girls both laughed, discussing the date and all the possible things it could mean until they woke Ollie up and got sent to bed.

* * *

Billie Jo stole one of Adrienne’s studded belts and wore it with jeans and a pink-and-white polka dotted top to school the next day. She didn’t see anyone in the hallway, just blurred creatures until Mike came down the hallway toward her. “Hi.” she said, her face lighting up with a smile.

“Hey.” Mike said, barely looking at her. “One of your nails is chipped.”

Billie’s face fell. “Oh.” And with that single syllable she turned and left. Mike didn’t follow. He worried slightly when she didn’t show up for English, but he pretend like he didn’t notice.

He made his way to her house after school, but the car was gone and there was no answer.

* * *

Billie Jo walked to the office second hour, eyes growing confused when she saw her mother. “Ma, what’s—”

“Your father.” Ollie wrung her hands. “Let’s go, Billie.”

“I don’t want to see him.” Billie said as Ollie dragged her out to the car. “You know that, Mom.”

“Well, he might die,” Ollie snapped hysterically, “so you won’t have to after today.”

Billie Jo grew quiet and crawled into the passenger’s seat. She asked the question about twenty miles from Kenbrook. “What happened, Momma?”

“He found a way to hurt himself.” Ollie said. “He lost of a lot of blood. He’s your father, Billie.” Ollie’s voice cracked and she said nothing for a few more minutes. “You’re going in this time.”

“He doesn’t know me,” the girl whispered.

“But you know him.”

* * *

Ollie couldn’t drive home and Billie refused to stay at her grandmother’s house, but Ollie had insisted on stopping there before they got a hotel room. Billie refused to leave the car. Was it possible that only yesterday she was the happiest girl in the world? Yesterday she had kissed Mike.

Today her father was dead.

Would she be able to cry tomorrow?

She dialed Mike’s number four times while her mother was inside, but hung up each time when she heard his voice.

Maybe . . . tomorrow.