The Brink of Destruction

There was awkward silence as everyone turned and went back to what they had been doing--except Mike. With a heavy sigh, he handed his beer to Tre, who was inspecting his shoes with fake interest.

"Hang onto this for a minute, okay? I think I may need it when I get back." He pushed his sleeves up, stuck his hands in his pockets, and as casually as he could manage, he strolled across the back porch and down the stairs.

I could still see Billie Joe, fists defiantly on his hips, staring after the luckless bastard who had defiled his car. Mike eased up beside him, putting up his hands defensively when Billie spun on him. The snarl on his face surprised even his best friend.

"Whoah, man, it's just me," Mike reassured him. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't need anybody to keep an eye out for the cops. Chased that little asswipe away, didn't you, dude?"

He kept his voice low and steady, and it was pretty clear this wasn't the first time he'd had to be the peacemaker. Billie ranted and gestured, making sure Mike heard exactly what he thought of the vandal and what he'd like to do to him.

The lanky bassist nodded and mumbled supportively for a few minutes, and when he was sure the bomb had been defused, I watched them amble back up the steps to the kitchen. Billie fished in the cooler for a beer before he swung the back door open, and I realized I was holding my breath, waiting for...well, I wasn't sure what.

As if nothing at all had happened, he hopped up to sit on the counter, nursing the icy St. Pauli. One foot swung impatiently, and his eyes darted around the room as if he were making sure no one else was going to challenge him.

Mike and Tre picked up a new thread of conversation about the recording studio they had visited the day before, but Billie seemed to be paying little attention. I was nervous about even looking up at him, and when I did, I saw he was staring straight at me.

Without Wynn and Kiko there, I had no one else to talk to, so I stood there like a bug under a microscope, squirming uncomfortably. I had the feeling that his eyes were boring holes in me, and didn't know exactly what to do.

Without a word, he crooked his finger, motioning me over to where he was sitting.

I blinked, needing only a set of antlers to complete my moment in the headlights. What could he possibly want with me? My knees started shaking, and my hands decided, what the hell, might as well join in. My feet, however, had a mind of their own, and suddenly I found myself standing in front of him, in a puddle of my own sweat.

"How you doin'?" he asked. "You hit the floor pretty hard out there. This wouldn't happen to be your first mosh, would it?"

Great. Outed as a virgin.

"You could say that, I guess." My mouth was dry, and I couldn't help being mesmerized by that one green Converse, swinging slowly back and forth.

"I did."

When I looked up at him, his eyes were sparkling, and his face had crinkled into a grin.
"You take care next time you come back to see us play, okay? We wouldn't want you to get hurt." And then he patted me on my head, like I was fucking six. Mike, who was watching me out of the corner of his eye, stifled a laugh with his fist.

"Yeah, well, who knows how much free time I'll have. I've got a pretty heavy class load, and a scholarship to keep." I was sounding defensive because I was embarrassed. Damn.

"Mmm....brains. Good on crackers," he smirked. "What's a prep like you doing at a party like this anyway?"

Prep? Where did he find his nerve? I ignored the taunt, since he was obviously trying to get a reaction.

"I gather you aren't a student, so what do you do?" I asked, sweetly enough to barely conceal the sarcasm.

He lifted his chin just a little, and rolled his eyes at Mike. "Hey, Dirnt, Einstein wants to know what we do. Guess seeing us up on stage wasn't quite enough of a clue for a genius like her, huh?"

I was seething now. Okay, he may have helped me out of the pit, but this was just unnecessary. Even Mike looked a little uncomfortable, and I noticed he wasn't laughing anymore.

"Well, from the sound of it, I just assumed you'd need a day job to pay the bills."

As soon as I said it, I knew I'd made a mistake.

For a second, he was frozen, too angry to say anything. His face hardened to stone, his jaw muscles working under the skin, and I could see fire in his eyes. I had most definitely teased the tiger.

"You think you're better than me just because Mommy and Daddy have the dough to send you to college!?!" he exploded. "Think you've got a gold-plated train track to the top of the shit heap, do ya? You think I haven't busted my ass to be a musician? But you wouldn't know about work, would you, Paris?" he shouted, his finger stabbing the air in front of my face.

Once again, Mike stepped up to help, and looped his big hand through my arm, pulling me away. At the same time, his other hand lay gently on Billie's chest, easing him back. He tried to insert himself between us to distract Billie's fury, but it wasn't enough. He looked helplessly over at Tre, who took my wrist and led me through the freshly stunned crowd and into the living room.

Behind me, I could still hear Billie's voice above the conversation--"Mike, I'm not gonna let some brat bitch trash me or you, or the blood, sweat and tears we've put into making this band work!"

Wynn was working her way toward me, her face serious for the first time since I'd met her. "What's wrong, Gen?" she said when she finally got close.

"Please don't be mad, but I have to get out of here," I choked. And then, for just the right touch of humiliation, I burst into tears.