Christie Road

Stunned beyond words, he gaped at the young woman who stood before him, trying politely to smother her laughter. He tried to match her finely sculpted features with the childlike face he remembered, but the cheeks were more hollow, the jawline sharper, her eyes smoky and...haunted, he realized, with ghosts that only the two of them could see. But she stood straight and proud, not a trace of insecurity in her poised body, and he had the feeling that if he touched her, she would feel like stone.

"I can't--I don't believe it! God, it's been such a long time! You must be--what, seventeen now?" he stammered.

"Eighteen. Last February." She still smiled serenely, not the least cowed by his celebrity. "That makes you...old." The laughter bubbled over again, and he felt his cheeks warming.

"Old? At twenty-three? I don't think so!" he protested.

She nodded theatrically. "Yeah, sure, you just keep telling yourself that. That'll keep those wrinkles away."

His crooked grin spread beneath eyes that still stared in amazement, and he shook his head, still trying to take it all in. "So where the hell have you been all this time?"

"Don't you want to add, 'young lady' to the end of that, Dad?" she joked, but he winced at the inference.

"I just wondered, that's all--that letter you sent me sounded like you were doing a lot of moving around. It was hard to imagine you out there taking care of yourself, hitchhiking and stuff."

"I was really okay, you know? I stayed for a while in Arizona, even spent a couple of nights out at Organ Pipe Cactus. Amazing sunrises, and even better sunsets. Then I met these two guys who were from Portland, out doing some desert camping, and decided on change of scenery. So I packed up my stuff and rode up there with them."

"Portland, Oregon or Portland, Maine?" he asked.

"Pfft--Maine, are you kidding me?" she said. "Do I look like the New England type to you? L.L. Bean and I don't see eye to eye. But Portland's cool--a little like Berkeley. Real hippy kind of place, and lots of different people from everywhere you can imagine. It's kind of easy to just get lost there, which I did for six months or so. But finally the school system started asking questions about the address I'd given them, so when I figured they were onto me, I pulled in a favor and got a friend to take me down to Alameda. One of my cousins lives just outside town, and she helped me get settled, finish school. By then I'd started doing some shoots for Vann, and it just evolved into a job. Part time, but it helps."

"So you've graduated already?" If he was impressed with her before, he was completely bowled over now.

She shrugged modestly. "Yeah, I got my paper and did the perp walk. You can't believe how hard it is to get work, even flipping burgers, without it. I'd really like to take some photography and journalism courses at COA. Who knows, maybe I'll go on and get my degree."

"Damn, I thought we were living large! When you said you weren't gonna be coming back, I figured you'd find some sweet old great-aunt somewhere and become her ward, some shit like that. But you really went out there and kicked ass!"

Mike peered over his shoulder curiously. "Are you going to tell me how you two know each other, or do I have to guess?" Tre stood beside him, face twisted into an expectant grimace that was supposed to look friendly, but came off as demented.

"He and I used to be next door neighbors," she answered, before Billie could form a reply. "He was kind of my big brother, I guess. He watched out for me, bandaged my skinned knees, chased the bullies away." Her eyes, pale as aquamarines, shifted back to Billie's, and the gratitude in them was unmistakable. The meaning in her last words wasn't lost on him.

"You mean you're that little squirt with the Bassett hound that used to get loose and run all over Rodeo?" Mike said, squinting and shaking a finger at her in dawning recognition.

She smiled and nodded, allowing the unintended dig to pass. "I hear Woodruff's still hanging on, if you can believe that. Fatter and grayer, but still roaming. And I'd like to think I'm slightly less clumsy now that I'm not doing gymnastics anymore."

Tre looked slowly from her glossy hair down to the plaid canvas sneakers, and whistled under his breath. "Honey, you can trip and fall on me anytime you like!" he leered, and Billie whirled on him, almost snarling.

"Shut your fucking mouth, Cool," he warned, his tone suddenly lethal. Tre's eyes flew open in surprise, and he backed up a step at the familiar hornet hum in Billie's voice.

"Sorry, man, I didn't mean anything," he mumbled, hands raised to make peace.

"Fuck you didn't. I know that look--I've seen it a million times. She's just a kid, so back the hell off." He looked ready to do violence, if necessary.

Jazz cleared her throat discreetly. "No offense, Sir Galahad, but I'm not a kid anymore, you know. I'm fully legal now, and quite capable of handling someone like your friend here." Her tone was gentle and good-natured, but firm. Billie looked back at her with a flicker of confusion shadowing his face.

How quickly he'd fallen back into his role as her protector, he realized sheepishly. He had to remind himself that she was beyond needing his heroics now, and could probably show him a thing or two about self-preservation. But he couldn't help it. To him, she was still that scabby-kneed kid who had gotten chased by the Denlingers' Doberman until he scared it away with the water hose, the same trembling second-grader who had squirmed up against him on the sofa when Anna, against her better judgment, had let her watch "Nightmare on Elm Street" with them. He had carried her to her sleeping bag in Anna's room that night, fearful as she was to walk past the hall closet, and when he tucked her in, she looked up at him with sleepy eyes and whispered, "Don't let him get me, Billie."

He shivered inside as he realized how prophetic the plea had been.

"Yeah, well, you don't know him as well as I do, so just watch your step around him. He's a well-known pervert of the worst sort." He tried to cover his flash of anger with a half-hearted chuckle, but her skeptical stare seemed to see straight through him.

She laid a hand lightly on his arm. "Hey--I appreciate it," she said in a low voice, all trace of playfulness set aside. "Thanks for the warning." Then she was all business again, backing up a step or two to frame the shots, light meter in hand.

Even through the lens, the boys were able to make some charismatic connection that she knew would resonate with their fans. They were gut-honest, laying everything out for the world to see, and the fact that they held nothing back made the shoot a completely new experience for her. If she had expected awkwardness when Vann told her who they'd be working with, then she was wholeheartedly disappointed. There was no conceit or superstar smugness, just the same goofy, smartass horseplay she had known with Billie years ago.

True to her reputation, she was fast and efficient, but the boys were pleased that she was able to bring her own fresh creativity to the poses--not just the same triangular arrangements, Tre and Mike flanking a front-and-center Billie Joe. She captured the unique personality of all three of them, and for the first time, they were actually sorry when she raised her head and announced, "Okay, guys, that does it. You can all go home now!"

Vann stood beside her, nodding approval. "Man, I think you're gonna like it. I'll send a copy to Larry for you so you can see how it turned out. Thanks so much for your time, and we'll be looking for that second album soon!"

Something in Billie's chest tightened as they shook hands all around, and he found himself casting about for a reason to stall, though he didn't know why. He'd been looking forward to getting home for days, and Lani had sidled up to him, stroking the back of his arm lightly with one finger to remind him what was in store when they were finally alone. He should be desperately trying to get the hell out of this place, but somehow the urgency had faded.

Jazz finished stowing her equipment, glancing up with an almost imperceptible smirk when she saw Lani's possessive grasp on Billie's waist. Marking her territory, she thought in amusement. Wonder how long she had to work to pin him down. It didn't matter; she was totally occupied with the momentum of her life now, and his romantic preferences were none of her business. She just found it funny how...out of step they seemed to be with each other, as if they spoke different languages but somehow hadn't noticed yet.

Lani inclined her head to rest on Billie's shoulder. "Shouldn't we be getting home, baby? We've got a lot of lost time to make up for." Her voice was just loud enough for Jazz to hear, and her blue eyes flickered to the younger girl's face to make sure she had heard.

"Sure, we're going in just a second," he reassured her, but he didn't seem to be rushing. "Hey, Vann, you got a card or something so we can give you heads up when the new album's ready to drop? It'd be cool if we could, like, give you first break on it. Gotta look out for our homies, you know?"

The beefy hand fished out a battered wallet and produced a smudged, dog-eared business card. "Yeah, man we'd really appreciate that. We can get you guys together again and do some promo shots, if you like."

Billie looked around at Mike, who nodded approvingly. "That sounds amazing! Maybe Jazz can fix us up again, if she's not busy." He hoped Lani hadn't heard the quick pause in his breathing as he waited for an answer.

"I'd love to," Jazz smiled, zipping her duffle bag. "You guys were really easy to work with. It would be fun to do it again!"

Lani's fingers tightened around Billie's bicep, and her lips pushed into a little pout. "How nice to know you'll be able to ride their wake a little longer, before they outgrow all this 'zine stuff. You can look back later and say you knew them before they conquered the world!" She coated the sarcasm with a toxic sweetness that fooled no one.

The barb sailed past, finding no target. "That's an understatement," Jazz said casually. "I knew this one--" she nodded toward Billie, "before he even met the other two. I remember when he first started shaving and--"

"Okay, okay, no embarrassing stories about my childhood," Billie interrupted with a chuckle, waving a hand to stop her from going any further. "There's too many of them, and these guys haven't got all day."

Lani shifted impatiently, lifting her chin a fraction of an inch with a whiff of superiority. "Well, nice meeting you," she purred, deliberately ignoring Jazz and flashing her dazzling smile at Vann. Lacing her fingers through Billie's, she took two steps toward the door, trying to hurry him along.

"Likewise," Jazz sang cheerfully. "You two have a lovely evening. See ya around, BJ."

He was being tugged relentlessly, his arm outstretched, and he gently disentangled himself. "Just a second, honey," he said, and turned toward his old friend. Before he had time to think about it, his arms had circled her, and after a surprised laugh, she returned the hug.

"I'm so glad to see you and know you're okay. You can't imagine how many times I've thought about you and wondered how you were doing." He let her go and stepped back reluctantly. "I'm really proud of you, Jazz."

She wasn't the blushing kind, but she felt warmth creep into her cheeks. If she'd ever had a hero, he was the one, and it felt good to know he hadn't just forgotten about her. It was even better to know she'd managed to make a good impression after all this time. Only he knew all that she'd overcome, and his opinion mattered more to her than--well, anyone's.

"Thanks, Billie. You, too. Congratulations on the band and everything. I'm really happy for you." She smiled graciously at Lani. "For both of you."

"Yeah, well...see you later," he said, his feet shuffling backwards at Lani's insistence. "Thanks for the great work."

"No problem," she called as he backed out the door, and she grinned at the glare Lani shot her way. Bet the conversation in the car will be interesting, she thought. Too bad the girl didn't understand that Jazz was just the bratty little neighbor kid, nothing more.

That much she had always known, and it was the splinter in her heart.