Christie Road

Five years...

The time had flown by faster than the boys could ever have imagined. Two EP's and their first full-length album under their belt, they were returning home triumphant after a tour that had taken them through Europe, then on to Sweden, Denmark and Finland, and finally Australia and New Zealand. Five years of recording and performing had honed their act to a razor edge, and tonight they would do one final show at UC-Berkeley as a homecoming celebration.

There was a lean, spare look to them now, all traces of baby fat gone from their faces, and their spirits had toughened as well. Tre's reputation for lunacy had preceded him wherever they went, causing them untold complications at hotels and on airplanes. Mike, as always, was the calmer voice, maintaining some semblance of sanity as they traveled. And as for Billie...

Channeling his considerable wrath at the world into his performances, he became fierce, aggressive, both in his music and his personal life. Few of their fans, and even fewer venue managers, ever dared to confront him, preferring instead to talk to the more rational Mike. And on the few occasions that someone did have a reason to disagree with the explosive singer, they never forgot the experience.

***********************

Another concert, another after-party. There had been a lot of them recently, and they were running together. The days of being able to hang out in the green rooms were long gone; now they played venues large enough to have hospitality suites, or sometimes they rented reception rooms in the nicer hotels where they stayed.

This time, though, they'd decided to truly come home. Friends and family were amused to see that they'd been invited to Cinelli's Pizza in Rodeo, a place that meant nothing special to anyone except Billie Joe, Mike and Tre. The restaurant had expanded since they'd been home last, and was celebrating the return of their heroes in style. The front of the building was draped in green bunting, balloons tied to the awning posts, and the PA system was proudly blasting their music nonstop, loud enough for the factory workers half a mile down the road to hear.

They pulled up in a black van with tinted windows, conspicuously free of any markings that would identify it as a limousine, and stepped out to the cheers and whistles of a hundred or more well-wishers. The formality of handshakes went right out the window--these were the people they knew and loved. Ollie and Anna, Mike's mother and sister, and Tre's dad stood beaming proudly at the front of the crowd, and made sure the boys got the stuffing hugged out of them before anyone else had a turn.

It took a good twenty minutes for them to cross the short distance from the curb to the front door, but at last they made it inside, and the owner, Dom, greeted them with his usual Italian gusto, plus a tray of ice-cold mugs of beer. Cameras were flashing all around them, capturing the big grins and goofy faces.

Once the fans and autograph seekers had been satisfied, and the crowd had thinned out a little, Billie looked around, hoping to see Lani waiting, as she had promised. He had almost given up when he caught sight of her, long blonde hair swept up into a curled ponytail, a soft, fuzzy pink sweater hugging her body closely enough to make him stare hungrily.

Their eyes met before he reached the corner where she was sitting, patiently waiting for him to finish his obligations, and she smiled warmly. It had been four months since he had been home, four months since they had spent time alone together, and he was looking forward to taking her home and turning off the phone for a day. Hell, maybe two. What did he have to do that was more important?

She rose smoothly, sinuously, from her chair, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement, and her arms opened to receive him. He pulled her hard against him, her body soft and warm and yielding.

"God, Billie, I've missed you so much," she whispered, her breath hot on the skin of his neck. She slid her hands into his back pockets, not bothering to look around to see if anyone was watching. Burying her face in his shoulder, she closed her eyes to hold back the unexpected tears of happiness. So many days and nights had passed without him, lying alone in her bed and trying not to think about the empty space beside her, and now he was home and in her arms again.

One tattooed hand lifted to cradle her head against him, and he laid his cheek against the top of her head, breathing in her sweet fragrance like the scent of magnolias drifting on the warm air of a southern night. For her he had turned away from so many girls, so many fresh, eager and willing bodies that reached for him boldly, seductively, and were rejected, one after the other. For her he had been faithful, even when the roadies had razzed him and taunted him with pieces of lingerie tossed onto the stage by fans who had written their names and phone numbers on the silky fabric. He had proved to himself that he could be trusted, deserving of her love, and his reward was here in the circle of his embrace.

"I missed you too, babe, every minute. It seemed like the last few days just crawled by, and the nights were so lonely I thought I'd die."

She squeezed him tight. "You won't be alone tonight," she whispered, looking up into the green jewels of his eyes. "We're going back to the apartment and I'm going to make up for every single night we spent apart." Her heart pounded against his chest, matching the drumbeat of his own, fanning the flames in his veins.

The grin spread across his face slowly. The softness of the pink sweater was making him dizzy, making it hard to think clearly. Her breath was sweet, warming his earlobe where her lips moved so softly, and his eyes closed as his fingers tightened around hers.

Lawrence tapped him on the shoulder apologetically. "Sorry to interrupt, Billie, but there's one more 'zine that wanted to get a couple of shots before you guys take off. They're from Alameda, so I figured you wouldn't mind."

Billie sighed and shrugged.

"It's okay," Lani smiled reassuringly. "You go on and smile for the cameras, and when you get done, I'll be here waiting."

"You do a lot of that, don't you?" he said, his crooked smile soft and sympathetic.

"You're worth it," she answered. "If you weren't, I wouldn't still be here."

He touched the tip of her nose, and kissed her forehead. "I'll hurry," he promised.

"You better!" Her face lit up in another dazzling smile.

Mike and Tre were already chatting with the editor of "Razor," a short, muscled guy with a blond buzzcut and snakebites. Billie didn't interrupt them, waiting until the man stuck his hand out in greeting.

"Name's Vann," said a voice that confessed too many cigarettes. "You Billie Joe?"

Billie returned the handshake. "Yeah, that's me. I hear you're from Alameda?"

"For about six months. I just moved here from Atlanta. Not as much of a culture shock as I expected, but mainly because of the music." Not born in Atlanta, though, Billie thought. He'd smooth those r's out more.

"Cool, that's great," Billie replied, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice. " Well, look, I hate to sound like we're in a hurry, but--"

"Yeah, no problem, I appreciate you guys giving me a minute. We'd just like to get a couple of group shots, nothing fancy, to celebrate the tour wrapup. Let me go catch the photographer--she's outside getting a shot of the crowd."

Vann stuck his head out the door and whistled, and an elfin girl with dark brown hair, a white streak highlighting one side, turned to give him a nod. She leaned toward one of the people she'd been talking with and said something that caused the guy to burst into laughter.

She was absorbed in changing lenses and attaching her flash as she followed Vann into the restaurant, and didn't look up at them as he introduced her. "Guys, this is my super-talented photog, Jazz. She's the reason Razor is going to be big."

Satisfied that the wide-angle was seated, she looked up and extended her hand. Mike and Tre greeted her, clearly impressed, and then Billie stepped forward to say hello.

Her fingers slid smoothly into his, with an ease that was almost familiar. She had an air of confidence about her--no, more than confidence, it was more like invulnerability. Strength that had been tested and found unbreakable. Billie's usual gift of gab seemed to have abandoned him, and his mouth opened and closed without a sound. His eyes lifted from the hand that clasped his firmly to the graceful neck rising out of her denim jacket, and then to the crystal blue eyes that gazed at him steadily.

He felt a crackle in the air between them, and it was a second too long before he let go of her hand. Why were his palms sweating, he wondered? His eyebrows lowered, mirroring the confusion in his mind that kept him from speaking. He couldn't take his eyes off her face, there was something about her that was like an echo...

"Billie?" she said, a faint smile playing around the corners of her lips.

The voice was the piece that made all the others fall into place. It should have been the eyes, but it had been such a long time, and she had changed so much. But her voice, he couldn't forget the sound, like water over smooth rocks.

"Jasmine?" he croaked in disbelief.

Her laughter was fairy bells. "Call me Jazz."