Christie Road

That afternoon, Billie reluctantly made the trip to Albany to collect the last of his belongings--alone. Despite her protests and offers to help him, he insisted that Jazz stay behind, and with some persuasion, she finally agreed. It was all too easy for him to imagine the scene that would unfold if Lani happened to be at home, and that was the last thing Jazz needed to see.

On the drive, he readied himself for whatever confrontation waited for him, occasionally mumbling out loud as he mentally countered every possible argument. But by the time he reached the old apartment, he had decided that stony silence would be the best approach, and made up his mind that no matter what Lani said, he wouldn't respond, except to remind her that the lease would be up in a month. She had set up the utilities in her name, so it would be up to her to cancel the lights and water--or not, he didn't care. It felt so businesslike, arranging to dispose of the last ragtag dregs of their time together, and yet he felt no remorse, only relief.

As it turned out, he had no reason to worry. There was no answer when he knocked, and when he let himself inside, she had already boxed his things and put them in a pile in the middle of the living room. Distrust made him check behind her, making sure she hadn't held out something that would give her an excuse to try to contact him again, but he found nothing missing.

Pacific Self-Storage had a small unit just the right size to stash the things he wouldn't need for a while, and with the few remainders, he returned to Jazz's apartment, where she was waiting anxiously to hear how things had gone. She sighed with relief when he told her how uneventful his trip had been, and they agreed that he could finally put the whole thing behind him, where it belonged. And now they could concentrate on the future and each other.

He spent a happy, serene week with Jazz before finally locating a small house not too far from hers. In that short time, they had fallen into a familiar and comfortable routine, needing little besides each other's company. When he broke the news to her after dinner that he would be moving, she was quiet for a while before she answered.

"Well, I'm glad you'll have your own place. I know you're probably tired of being squashed in here with me," she said, trying weakly to smile. "I'll miss you being here."

She was curled against him on the sofa, his arm draped around her shoulders, and her fingertips circled lightly on his chest.

"I'll miss this too, Jazz," he said, kissing her forehead. "It'll be weird not being here. But I'm just a few blocks away, so we can still see each other all the time."

Her smile brightened. "Yeah, that sounds good. Besides, you know where I live," she laughed.

"Yeah, and I know where you keep your spare key, too!" he grinned. "So don't be surprised if you come home one evening and find dinner made and candles burning!"

"Promise?" she said hopefully.

"Promise," he said, winking reassuringly at her. "Nothing as simple as a change of address could keep me away from you."

"Good," she said with a satisfied smile. "I'm holding you to it, old man."

His eyebrows flew up in surprise. "Old? You better watch that, young lady, or I'll have to take my cane to your behind!"

"You'll have to catch me first!" she taunted, but before she could get to her feet, she found herself tackled and rolling on the floor, screaming with laughter as he tickled her mercilessly...

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

"Bill, I've got some good news!" Larry said with his trademark abruptness. "Gilman gave you the green light!"

Billie switched the phone to his other shoulder, wiping sweat as he set down the last box that went in the kitchen. "Are you serious? Man, that's fantastic!"

"Yeah, but Mike and Tre didn't seem to share your enthusiasm, though. Fact is, they acted pretty surprised about the whole thing. Any reason you know of why they might be in the dark?" He sounded like a scolding schoolteacher.

"You called them? Damn, Larry, why don't you let me handle this shit like I've asked you to?" he complained, waving his hand in frustration. "Now they're gonna be all pissy when I talk to them."

"Well, can you blame them? I know they're just the other two-thirds of your band, but you might have shown them at least a little consideration!" He was used to handling Billie, well accustomed to his hard-headed insistence on doing things his own way, and he had long ago learned that it was wise to look over his shoulder occasionally to make sure the other guys weren't being dragged along against their will.

"When do we play?" Billie said, brushing the criticism aside impatiently. Only ten days at home, and he was already craving the stage again.

"How about Saturday night, this weekend?"

Riding the crest of his adrenaline surge, he jumped at the offer without a second's thought. "Perfect! I'll get Mike and Tre on board, don't worry. Who else is playing that night?"

"You'll love it," Larry said. "Aaron with be there with Crimpshrine. It'll be just like old times."

"Hot damn!" he shouted. "Larry, I owe you one!"

"Armstrong, you owe me so many I could call in body parts and you'd still have a tab."

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

Gilman had grudgingly agreed to the show, but in a subtle nod to their disapproval of the band's recent success, they hadn't put out a whole lot of publicity about it. Still, word of mouth had spread like wildfire, and there were so many familiar faces there that it seemed like a reunion of sorts, and the crowd overflowed the club and spilled out onto the street.

There was no formality, or even a playlist--both bands joyously ad libbed and played whatever requests were shouted the loudest. They even combined efforts to cover "Knowledge," with the audience singing the lyrics along with them at the top of their lungs, and were rewarded with roaring applause when they were finished.

What a difference between this and the stadium shows they had played--there was no fancy hospitality room with a buffet and bar here, just three steps that led from the stage down into the crowd so they could shake hands and sign autographs. Jazz was at stage right with her camera, capturing candids that Billie instinctively knew would be perfect, and as he scribbled his name on the back of a tee shirt, he glanced longingly over at her and smiled. Lowering the camera, her eyes luminous and soft, she silently mouthed, "You were wonderful."

He hadn't been so happy in years.

It was well past midnight, and the crowd was beginning to thin gradually. He found his way to Jazz's side, and Mike and Tre drifted over as they finished their conversations, Mike with a dark-haired beauty and Tre holding the hand of a perky blonde with a tiny gold nose ring.

"So are you guys still pissed off at me?" Billie asked, slipping his arm around Jazz's waist.

Mike laughed and shook his head. "Nahh, I guess we'll forgive you. It was fun coming back one more time."

"I never was mad!" Tre chirped. "I could play every fuckin' night!" He looked over at the blonde, who watched him with a mixture of fascination and suspicion. "There's lots of stuff I could do every night," he said suggestively, and she rolled her eyes. She'd already figured him out, by the looks of it.

"How do you think the pictures will come out?" Mike asked, turning to Jazz.

"They're pretty amazing, if I say so myself. You guys were putting out some incredible energy up there, and you looked like you were having a blast!"

"I don't know about these guys, but I sure was!" Billie chuckled. His eyes swept over the dozens of people who still lingered in the club, talking and laughing. Here were the people he knew, here was the home where he felt be belonged, here was--

Lani?

Her blonde hair caught his eye, and as she turned toward a stocky, towhaired guy who was talking to her, Billie saw her in profile and realized it was definitely her. She tossed her hair back, laughing in her kittenish, flirty way at the boy, and when she shot a glance over her shoulder at Billie, he knew it was no coincidence that she was here. His stomach tightened, and he was glad there was distance between them, so that he could avoid her and take Jazz out of the situation before the two came face to face.

Jazz was still showing Mike the previews of her shots on the new digital SLR she'd talked Vann into buying, so she didn't notice Billie's distracted stare. When he was reasonably sure Lani wasn't approaching them, he relaxed a little and turned his attention back to his friends.

"Well guys, I don't know about you, but I've had a great night. Is anybody else as tired as I am?"

Mike and Tre looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Are you serious? It isn't even 1am! You never wimp out this early!"

He grimaced at them--trust your best friends never to make things easy. "Who's wimping out? Maybe I'd just like to spend some time with this beautiful young lady here," he said, leaning his head against Jazz's. "She's a lot prettier than you assholes. Besides, you've got company of your own--maybe they'd like to get out of this dive, too."

"I'm fine either way," the brunette shrugged, and Mike leered back at Billie. "See? There's no rush. You just don't like me and Tre anymore 'cause we wouldn't let you play "Jailhouse Rock!"

"C'mon, man, Elvis is awesome!" he protested.

"Bullshit--he's old, fat, and dead!" Tre shot back.

Billie was about to launch into his Elvis appreciation speech, when a tap on his shoulder startled him, and he looked around to see the stocky guy standing behind him. Lani was nowhere in sight, to his relief.

"Hey, um, you're Billie Joe, right?" the boy mumbled.

"Yeah, that's me," he said suspiciously.

"Well, you guys really rocked up there tonight." He shifted awkwardly, his eyes darting over to Jazz. The glance wasn't lost on Billie, and he stiffened, his senses kicking into overdrive as they did whenever something didn't quite feel right.

"Thanks, that's cool," he answered, his voice wary. The boy didn't seem to want to make eye contact with him, and it made him nervous. Billie looked over at Mike, and saw that he was watching the conversation carefully, too. "We appreciate you coming out."

"Yeah, hey, I--uh, I just wanted to say, no hard feelings, right? I mean, I came with this girl, Lani, and I guess you and she used to date or something." Not the sharpest tool in the shed, Billie thought to himself.

"We did, but don't worry about it. We aren't together anymore, so best of luck, man." He hoped the guy would take the hint and leave him alone, but a beefy hand rose to rest on his shoulder, and he boy leaned over to speak into his ear.

"Can I--can I talk to you outside for a second? I just need to ask you something kind of personal," he asked in a low voice.

The hairs on the back of Billie's neck were standing up, some sixth sense telling him this was not a good idea, not good at all. "What's up? Anything you need to say you can say here--these are my friends, they've heard it all." He tried to sound relaxed, but his nerves were so taut they were like live wires.

The boy looked over at Jazz uncomfortably, his eyes darting away quickly so she didn't see him. "Well, it's about your friend," he said, almost too softly to hear. "I don't think you want her to hear this."

Billie's mouth tightened into a grim line. Whatever this was, Jazz wasn't going to get dragged into it, he would see to that. If it meant he got his own ass kicked, then so be it. But if he stayed here, all signs pointed to something ugly for both of them.

"Fine," he muttered through gritted teeth. When he turned back to Jazz, he forced a reassuring smile. "Babe, I'm gonna walk out for just a second and see if I can help this guy. He needs Lawrence's phone number, and I have to get my phone out of the glove compartment." He kissed her cheek, squeezing her shoulders protectively. "I'll be right back."

"'Kay," she said, touching his hair softly as she brushed his lips with hers. "I'll wait here for you so we can head home."

He followed the boy outside onto the sidewalk, and stood, arms crossed and feet spread, glaring at him in the sickly yellow glow of the street lights. "So what is it you want?" he asked, his voice a challenge.

The sheepish grin had given way to something cockier. "I just wanted to give you a heads up, man. That girl you're with, she's not what you probably think." He licked his lips, hands pulling out of his pockets as if he anticipated trouble. "I've seen her before, a couple of years back. She was hanging out not far from Gilman, and let's just say she was very...friendly, if you get my drift."

Billie clenched his fists so hard the nails bit into the flesh of his palms. "What the fuck are you talking about? You have no idea who she is, so fuck off!"

"I'm serious, man. She may look all innocent, but she's a wildcat, especially if you get a little blow in her."

"Bullshit!" Billie spat. "I've known her since she was a kid, and there's no way I'm believing this crap!"

"Whatever you say," the boy laughed, shaking his head. "But I'm telling you, the girl was a pro. She was living on the streets, but she was making some pretty good money, from what it looked like to me. Course, she was worth it, the way she could work her--"

He never finished his sentence. Billie's fist exploded into his nose with a sickening crunching sound, and he fell to his knees, clutching his spurting nose in his hands. A hail of blows was battering his face, and then the astonished boy was being hauled up by the collar of his shirt to face a pair of green eyes set into a demon's furious face.

"Where the fuck is Lani? I know she's behind this. Where is she?" he bellowed. He turned back toward the club entrance, dropping the speechless, bleeding figure back to the ground. "Lani, you bitch! Get your ass out here right now!" he screamed, stalking back toward the door.

Several people stood gathered at the entrance, and he didn't even hesitate before he roughly shoved them out of the way. Pushing his way inside, he clambered onto the stage to look out over the milling crowd for a familiar blonde shock of hair, but she didn't seem to be anywhere in sight. He turned back to the steps and jumped over them in one leap, determined to find her.

This time, the knot of people in front of him parted, shocked at the small tornado that threatened to bowl them over, and he stormed past them and directly into Jazz's arms, her frightened eyes looking up at him as if she didn't recognize him.