Christie Road

"Billie!" Mike called, sprinting across the parking lot. He caught the smaller boy's arm, slowing his pace to walk beside him. "Dude, hold up. We were being dicks, and I'm sorry. Look, come on back--Op Ivy's almost ready to play, and that's what we came for."

Billie glared at his friend, eyes flashing. "Mike, I'm just sick of you guys ganging up on me like I'm comic relief. I've busted my ass for eight years trying to get this band off the ground, and you act like all I do is whore around!"

"I know, and like I said, I'm sorry. We don't mean to rag you so hard. Hell, if it weren't for you, me and Tre would probably still be sitting around in the basement, practicing the same old stuff every weekend."

"I don't mean that. I just wish you guys wouldn't act like I'm always hitting on girls. And there's only been a couple that have come up to me like that girl did tonight, so I don't know why you make such a big deal out of it."

"Have you ever considered that maybe we're a little jealous of you?" the bassist grinned at him ironically. "I mean, I wouldn't mind some cute young thing putting me in a lip lock just out of the blue--well, maybe not quite as young as that girl was, but still..."

His sheepish face made Billie laugh, and he punched the tall bassist's arm affectionately. "Hey, man, if I was a chick, I'd kiss ya," he laughed. Then his face softened in feigned passion. "In fact..." he said, breathing heaviliy and moving his face closer to Mike's, "now that you mention it--"

"Naahh, it'd just be a pity smooch," Mike answered mournfully, looking for the world like Woodruff, the bassett hound. "Just leave me alone to wallow in my shame puddle."

"Alright, come on, then," Billie said, pushing him back toward the door where they could hear the band doing their sound check. "The least we can do is watch these guys and see what we can steal!"

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

After dropping Tre and Mike off, Billie slipped quietly through the back door, locking it behind him. No lights were on, and the soft hum of Anna's radio was the only sound he heard.

Falling back on his bed, he closed his eyes and felt the buzz of show-adrenaline slowly fading from his veins. It was still a little before midnight, and on a Saturday night he would normally still be out, prowling "downtown" Rodeo (a joke if there ever was one) or standing out at Christie Road on the tracks with whoever showed up.

But tonight he was restless in a different way. His mind kept conjuring up a pair of sky-blue eyes that seemed to pull at him like some hypnotic siren song.

He kicked off his sneakers and padded silently down the hall into the kitchen to get a drink. Taking a long swallow, his gaze fell on a light green envelope on the counter, with his name printed in feminine handwriting across the front.

Curious, he slid his finger under the flap and tore it open. Inside was another handwritten sheet, meticulously lettered and decorated with little flowers and comic faces, inviting him to Jasmine's thirteenth birthday party.

Oh boy, he thought, sounds like a total blast! He'd have so much in common with all those younger kids. Maybe they could all get roaring drunk together and take a road trip to Oakland, find a bunch of kids to beat the hell out of...

Or maybe not. He tossed the folded sheet back on the counter and started back toward his room, when his gaze fell on the telephone.

He was surprised to find the number already stuck in his memory. Picking up the handset, his fingers hovered over the buttons in uncertainty. It was late, very late. What if the wrong person answered?

Then he'd just hang up, that's all. Wrong number, end of story.

Punching out the seven digits, he drummed his fingertips anxiously on the countertop. The voice that answered was soft, sleepy.

"H'lo?" she half-whispered.

"Lani?" he said, softly enough that he wouldn't wake his mother or Anna.

"This is Lani. Who is this?" She sounded a little frightened at being awakened by someone she couldn't identify.

"Listen, I'm sorry to call so late, and I hope I didn't wake you up. This is Billie Joe, I'm in the band that played at your party--"

"I know who you are, Billie Joe." Was that a smile he heard through the cold of the phone line? "I was awake, don't worry. Why are you calling this time of night?"

"I just wanted to tell you that we got invited to play Gilman the Saturday night after next, and I thought you might want to bring your friends. You said to let you know when we'd be playing again, so..."

"I'm really glad you told me. I'll call around and bring as many people as I can. I'm so happy for you!" There was an excited little squeak in her voice that made him shiver.

"Hey, if you aren't doing anything tomorrow, why don't I pick you up and we can go up to Tilden Park and take a walk?" he said, feeling lucky.

"Where's that?"

"In Berkeley. It's pretty cool, hiking trails and stuff. And if it's raining, we can sit under the merry-go-round. There probably won't be anybody much out there this time of year."

"It sounds pretty," she said. "I'd really enjoy that."

"Okay, then. How about if I pick you up about eleven tomorrow morning?" He wondered silently if he had even been awake before eleven on a Sunday morning in the last five years.

"Well, I don't get home from church until about twelve-thirty. Could we make it about one o'clock?"

Church, eh? Hadn't set foot in one of those in...well, more years than he could remember. But he could work around it. "Great, one o'clock it is. I'll see you then, okay?"

"See you then," she said sweetly.

"Well, good night."

"G'night, Billie Joe."

He hung up the phone slowly, wishing he could think of some reason to drag out the conversation. But if she had to wake up early in the morning, he didn't want to keep her up too late.

Back in his room, he still needed to unwind, and he raised his window so the smell of smoke wouldn't wake his mother. Cigarette held loosely between his fingertips, he sat in the windowsill, his leg dangling over the edge, looking out into the cold, clear night sky. The stars were diamond pinpoints, flickering and dancing like fireflies as he watched. Over and over in his mind, he savored the silken sweetness of her voice in his ear, and imagined running his fingers through her soft, golden hair.

From next door, the sound of the television interrupted his thoughts. Frowning, he peered through the darkness toward Jasmine's house. Why did she have to turn it up so loud, he thought. Must have been watching one of those "Lifetime Network" chick flicks. Some guy screaming and cursing, and the crashing sound of glass breaking.

"Jesus, turn it down, willya? Some people are trying to sleep," he muttered, and pulled the window casing down with a thump. He was just glad he hadn't had to live with younger siblings of his own. Having one next door was bad enough.

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

Sunday afternoon was unlike any date he'd had before. He came to the door at Lani's house, and was met by her father, who had him come in and sit down and talk for half an hour or so before they left. Her curfew was nine o'clock, since it was a school night (for her, anyway), and he barely managed to steer the conversation away from the topic of school and graduation. He simply left it that he was doing some independent study work.

Well, it was true. Sort of.

He felt different with her, somehow, as though he had taken a step up into respectability. He opened the car door for her, brushed off the seat on the carousel horse before she sat down, even offered her his jacket when the overcast day turned to a light, misting rain.

She, in turn, thanked him profusely, her smile radiating sunshine that seemed to dispel the clouds, and gratefully accepted his arm when he offered to help her down from her fiberglass steed. The way she looked up at him, so innocent and trusting, made him feel six feet tall.

When the day had flown by, much too quickly, he took her back to her house and walked her to the door. It almost seemed as if they had warped into every bad, cliche 1950's B-movie he'd ever watched, but the strange thing was that it felt...nice. More than nice. It was romantic, and while he'd always known there was that side of him, he guarded it carefully, always mindful of his reputation with his friends, his teachers, even his family. Not for the world would he have allowed them to see him asking permission to kiss her goodnight, or the way he made sure his hands were touching only her waist and shoulder. And he would definitely have denied the shiver of goosebumps that ran up his arm when she sighed softly against his lips, her hand lightly on his cheek.

After making her promise to come to the Gilman show, he turned and made his way slowly down the walk to his car. Still she stood on the porch, seeing him off with a tiny wave of her hand. She mouthed the words, "Thank you," to him one last time, and he blew her a kiss.

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

His mother was drying the last of the supper dishes when he got home, and raised an eyebrow when she saw the smile plastered across his face. Riding the high of the mood he was in, he decided it was a good time to sit down with her and tell her about withdrawing from school, and though she was disappointed, as he had expected, she wasn't angry with him. Ollie was quite a smart woman, and though her mother's heart wanted all the best for her youngest son--and for all her children--she also knew him well enough to understand that his path was never going to be the one she'd imagined for him. And in her wisdom, she allowed him the freedom to find his own way.

Surprised by her receptiveness, he opened up to share with her the details of his day with Lani. She listened attentively, smiling encouragement when he described the girl he'd found himself so smitten with. And when he asked her what she thought about the differences in their backgrounds, their lifestyles, her response was classic Ollie.

"Billie Joe, you've got to learn your own worth. She isn't any better, or any more special, than you are. And her family seems nice enough--just treat her with respect, and you'll show them the kind of person you are."

"What if they find out I've dropped out of school?" he asked, and for the first time in a long time, she saw a faint trace of vulnerability in his face. "I don't think her dad would like that at all."

Ollie sighed. There were some things she couldn't fix for him, no matter how much she wanted to.

"Honey, I wish I could tell you everything would be fine, but the truth is that he may not approve. But what you have to understand is that you chose this, and now you have to face whatever unintended consequences there might be. But no matter what anyone says or thinks, don't you ever be ashamed of who you are. You hold your head up proud, and be a man, and if you do that, then you'll be fine."

He stood and hugged her. "Thanks, Mom. I know I've given you holy hell growing up, but you're pretty amazing, and I really appreciate all you do for me."

Patting his arm, she started to wipe the table in an effort to hide the emotion in her face. "Well, you just keep working on your music and make me proud, then."

"I will," he said, smiling at the back of her head. "I promise."

She straightened and turned back to him as he started down the hall to his room. "Oh, by the way, Jasmine stopped by and asked if you got her birthday party invitation. I think Anna left it on the counter for you."

"Yeah, I saw it," he said dryly. "Is Anna going?"

"Well, of course she is. She's been Jasmine's babysitter for almost ten years."

"I might just get her a stuffed animal or something and send it with Anna, then," he shrugged. "I'd really feel out of place with all her friends and everything."

Ollie gave him an entreating look. "Billie, you can spare an hour or so for her. Poor girl, she doesn't have many friends, and she looks up to you so much. All she really seems to have to occupy her time is her gymnastics, and I'm not sure how good she is at that."

"What do you mean?" he asked. Ollie was usually so encouraging when it came to any efforts her children--or anyone's, for that matter--put forth.

"When she came over this afternoon, she said she'd slipped off the balance beam during practice, and the whole side of her face was black and blue. Horrible, it looked. And she must have twisted her wrist, too--it was all bandaged up." She shook her head sadly. "She's had so many accidents like that. You'd think she'd take up another hobby, something less dangerous."

"Maybe she's just stubborn," he mused. And he could certainly relate to that. "Okay, I guess I can show up for a little while. But if they try to fix my hair, I'm walking out, I swear!"