The Babysitter

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“Joe’s birthday’s comin’ up.”

“Soon. Real soon, you know he wants a playhouse?”

“Yeah, I heard. How do you feel about helping me out with the party?”

Ava chuckled low in her chest and slid deeper into the bath water. She rolled over so they were chest to chest and stared up into his eyes. “Would I be getting paid for my services, Mister Armstrong?”

He arched an eyebrow in mock surprise, “The pleasure of helping me out isn’t enough?”

She wriggled upward, straddling his body. “Twenty kids. Parents. Set up before and clean up after? Baby, I don’t like you that much.”

He laughed outright, flipping her over so he was above her. Water sloshed into the floor. “What time to you have to be home tonight?”

She smiled, triumphant, stretching her arms above her head and presenting her breasts to him for inspection. “Dad thinks I’m sleeping over at Rachel’s house.”

“Rachel okay with covering for you?”

Ava laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and biting his nose playfully. “There is no Rachel. I gave dad Kurt’s number—he’s Rachel’s rather obtuse, Puritanical father, Mister Horrowitz.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”

“Yup. I’m a genius.” She winked, “Now when are you going to kiss me like a good boy?” He complied, taking her lips and she giggled, wriggling her body against his when his hands tickled down her sides. The phone rang and Ava straightened, he shook his head against her neck. “Let the machine get it.” His attack didn’t change when his wife’s voice cut through the steamy bathroom, but Ava stiffened for a split second before relaxing against him when he found a particularly sensitive spot.

***“Billie? I know you’re not home, but call me whenever you get this… I’ve done some… well, just call me, okay?”***

As they sunk lower together into the bathwater, the back of Ava’s mind triggered, wondering if he’d call her back. And as she was kissing him back, her lips working like wet velvet against his skin, he made a mental note to remember to find out what the hell Adrienne wanted this time.

@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@

Ava got to Billie’s house two Saturdays later and cursed colorfully under her breath. Three hours early so she could see her boyfriend whom she hadn’t seen two weeks and people were here already. She pulled shopping bags out of the back seat and kicked the rim of the black Excursion in her usual parking place. Vanity plate: MR-COOL.

“I wonder who that belongs to,” she muttered, reaching the door and leaning on the bell with her knuckle. The door ripped open a few seconds later.

“Ava! Are you here to help with Joey’s party?” Jake stared up at her with a huge grin on his face. “Uncle Tre’s here and he’s making his special cupcakes!”

Ava arched an eyebrow at what ‘special’ meant, “Actually dude, I need to ask your daddy what to do with these.”

“That’s okay, daddy’s making cupcakes too!” He reached up, grabbing the sahs she’d slung around her jeans and pulled. Ava shrugged, letting the kid haul her in the direction of the kitchen. She thought she heard more voices than usual, but she didn’t want to try and dissect. Att he door of the kitchen she nearly burst out laughing.

Flour on the floor. Batter on the walls.

The trash can overflowing with burnt cake pieces.

And a man she’d never actually met standing in the middle of the mess brandishing a wooden spoon at Billie Joe with a look in his eyes that made Ava bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“…Look man—I said I’d help you bake, okay—but I’ve been at this so long I can’t feel my feet. I don’t know why the fuck they won’t cook right in your retarded ass oven, I still say you should just bite it and buy ‘em at the damn store and… and cupcakes cause cancer, okay?!” He noticed Ava over Billie’s shoulder, “Great, a chick—feel like baking, sweetness?”

Ava snorted and Billie rolled his eyes at her. She shrugged. “Am I late?”

“Nash, you’re right on time. Decorations?”

“Yup. You owe me fifty. Where do I set up?”

“Rec room.” Billie knew better than to comment on the hair. Or the home-made tee shirt—a vintage Sex Pistols Anarchy in the UK tour tee with what looked like black spray paint over the front, the words Punk is Dead emblazoned for anybody who felt like fighting it to see. He’d taken to ignoring her tongue-in-cheek ways of picking spats. But he was almost tempted to ask if the sash around her low slung jeans really was a car’s seat belt.

“Cool,” she eyed him, smirking, then shrugged when he didn’t say anything about the shirt. She knew he wouldn’t. She was more curious about the seat belt-belt. “Do you need some help in here?”

Billie shook his head vehemently, “We’ll figure it out, thanks.”

“Don’t tell her that, man-!” The other man with the perfect eye-liner grinned beatifically. “Hey… I’m Tre. I’m sure you know all about-“

“We got it, Tre,” Billie grabbed the recipe card and waved it in his bandmate’s face.

“Why can’t I help, now?” Ava really didn’t care one way or the other, but she was curious anyway.

“Daddy says you burn water,” Jake supplied helpfully.

Ava arched an eyebrow, “Yeah?” She glanced at Billie who had the good grace to blush. “Well daddy can suck my left nut.” She winked at Jake and then sauntered off, abandoning the men to the messy kitchen.

@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%

“She’s a keeper,” Tre muttered, laughing as he tossed the spoon on the counter and headed toward the fridge for a beer.

“She’s not that bad,” Billie was having a vivid flashback to the last time Ava experimented with tofu and was firmly deciding to stand by his statement that she shouldn’t, under any circumstances, cook.

“Are you kidding?”

“She’s seventeen, man, she’s not serious.” Billie accepted the proffered beer and took a long swig. Tre rolled his eyes.

“Dude, she’s seventeen, she’s dead serious.” He gave his friend a quick look, then cocked his head to the side, “Pretty though.”

Billie shrugged after a split second hesitation and bent his head over the sink. “Yeah, if you like that sort of thing.”

“You gonna tell me she’s not your type?”

Billie was quiet for a moment, “She’s seventeen, Tre.”

“Yeah, I know man, I’m just talkin’.” His eyes were keen on Billie even though they sparkled. “But seriously, with that mouth-“

“Tre!” He threw the cupcake tin into the sink with a little more force than he’d intended. “Enough already.” Tre’s smirk made Billie deflate as quickly as he’d flared up. His shoulders slumped, resigned, “How’d you know?”

“We knew you were seein’ somebody, Mike figured you’d hired a hooker.”

Billie rolled his eyes.

“How long?”

“Since that trip to New York.”

Tre took a sip of his beer. “When’s she legal?”

“August.”

“Dude, it’s fucking March, man.”

“Yeah? And?” Billie shook his head, “You’d have less of a problem with it if she were two weeks away from eighteen?”

Tre looked surprised, but thought about it for a second. “No… no, cause either way you look at it, it’s fucking weird, man. I mean… when we were getting’ high off bad weed she wasn’t even like a fetus yet.”

“I’ve done the math, man.”

“Does Adrienne know? Okay, yeah, stupid question. Hey- is this why you’re so against a reconciliation?”

“She told you about that?” Billie downed the rest of his beer. He was getting a headache.

“She asked me if I knew anything.” He shrugged, “Is this kid really worth-“

“Now I know you aren’t going to give me advise on how to save my marriage.” He threw the beer bottle out and shoved the cordless in his pocket, headed toward the back door. “Screw the cupcakes. I’m ordering pizza.” He slammed the door after him.

“What’s up with Billie?” Mike entered from the hall, a large, brightly wrapped package under his left arm. Tre’s hands stilled the unconscious rhythm they were drumming on his thighs.

“He’s screwin’ the babysitter.”

“That blue-haired chick with the attitude rockin’ out to Tommy in the rec room?”

“Tommy?”

“Tommy.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Tre shook his head. “He’s lost it, man.”

“Think we should talk to him?” Mike eyed Billie through the window.

“I guess we’d better.”

Mike rolled his eyes, “Tre, you remember that time you wanted to date that girl with the rusty safety pin through her-“

“Yeah, so?”

“Remember how Billie was the only one who didn’t give you a hard time about it?” Mike crossed his arms over his chest and waited. Tre grunted.

“Yeah, you made your point, mom.” He stalked to the door, his eyes betraying his tone.

“I’m just sayin’.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tre shook his head, Billie was sitting on the deck railing, his beer bottle beside him. “Hey man- so we took a vote and yeah. Getting stupid over a girl, yeah- fucked up.”

“Glad you noticed,” Billie looked over his shoulder and nodded at Mike, “Hey man.”

“Hey, so I hear you got a new girl.”

Billie smiled, unsaid: stress on the girl. “Yeah.”

“She’s a kid, man.”

“I know,” he rolled his eyes heavenward. “She’s Tom Monroe’s daughter,” Mike whistled under his breath, “And I was really, really not planning on this.”

“But?” Mike leaned on the railing, looking out at the yard.

“But nothin’. I fought it for a long-ass time.”

“How long?” Tre leaned on his elbows, facing the house.

“She started watchin’ the kids in September.”

Mike snorted, “She a groupie?”

Billie laughed outright, “Man she’s dead set against punk. Swears up and down I can’t sing,” he added, taking a hard swallow of the beer.

“You can’t sing, dude,” Tre interjected.

“Not that it’s stopped ya,” Mike cut in, Billie noted that neither seemed particularly surprised or upset about the turn of events. Just concerned. He wondered for a split second what that said about him.

“What if you two break up?”

“What, you mean will she go to the papers?” Billie shrugged, “Nah, she’s more worried for my rep than I am.”

“What about Adie?” Mike glared and Tre shrugged, affronted. “What? Somebody hadda ask. You two’ve been together forever man. It’s weird you breakin’ up. We thought you’d make it.”

Billie clenched his jaw and glanced sidelong at Mike. “You two?”

“Come on, man, you gonna try to tell me you don’t still love her?”

“She’s the one that fucked up, not me.”

“So where does that leave this kid- whasername—Evie?”

“Eva,” Tre supplied.

“Ava.” Billie crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m half in love with her,” he groaned, wiping a hand over his face, “But she’s so fucking young man!”

“Some people dig that Lolita thing,” Tre pointed out, leering suggestively. Billie laughed.

“Naw man, I mean like… okay so the other night we’re supposed to eat and she’s watching MASH on Nick @ Nite, right? And I tell her we’re gonna be late and she tells me that we can’t go yet because it’s a new fuckin’ episode.”

They hooted.

“I take it all back, man,” Tre shook his head sadly, sorry that his friend was dating a dip.

“She’s not dumb,” Billie said defensively, “She’s just…”

“Young.”

“Yeah.”

“Think you’ll get sick of it?” Tre shuddered melodramatically, “Hot Topic wearin’, Avril spoutin’, Orlie Bloom crushin’ high school girls.”

“She thinks Hot Topic’s a joke, she wants to shoot Avril, and she thinks Orlando Bloom is gay.”

“You got it bad, man,” Mike put in, running a hand through his newly brown dyed hair.

“Yeah,” Billie sighed, “She needs me, man.”

“She needs you?” Tre muttered.

“This isn’t a rebound thing, man. She’s all I-can-do-it-myself and fuck-you-for-asking, but sometimes she just—I don’t know. It’s like… she’s lost, man.”

“It’s the age,” they chorused in unison.

Billie laughed, “I think Jake wants to marry her.”

“At least he’s her generation.”

“Mike!” Billie glared sidelong and Tre held up his hands defensively.

“He said it, not me, man.”

“Mike-“

“Billie?” Ava stood in the ope doorway, Joe wrapped around her left leg and more kids than belonged to the band members crowding around behind her. “The rec room’s done, there’s a crap ton of kids around and the pizza guy wants money.”

“Okay Ava, give us a minute,” They watched her go back into the kitchen and the three shared a long look.”

“She’s cute,” Mike offered.

“She’s ass over tea kettle for Billie,” Tre observed.

“Lord help us.”

@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@

Ava shoved the last dirty dish into the dishwasher and straightened. The mess made in the kitchen had taken her the better part of an hour to clean. Not to mention the mess in the rec room and then taking down decorations. If she never saw another Spongebob cutout again she’d be happy.

Adrienne’d come by hours ago to pick up Billie’s kids (Ava’d made sure to be on the other side of the house for that) and everybody else had left way before that. She bent, wiping down the counter one last time. When she straightened, Billie was standing in the doorway, staring silently at her.

“Hey,” he murmured, walking slowly into the room. She grinned, hopping up on the counter. He stood between her legs, arms on either side of the counter, “Nice shirt,” then laughed, “You know what I just realized?”

“What?” She grinned, tossing her hair off her shoulders.

“You’ve been here all day and I havne’t kidded you yet.” Ava stared into his open face, his eyes, his lips, his nose, and grinned.

“I was wondering when you’d notice that,” She cocked her head, offering him her lips.

He kissed her gently at first, touching only her lips with his. Then she laughed against his mouth, deepening the kiss, and scooted forward so that suddenly she was cradling him. She opened her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. He broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against her cheek.

“Mike and Tre know,” He murmured quietly. Ava jumped like she’d been burned.

“You told them?”

“They guessed,” he cocked his head, “It matters?”

She sighed, bone deep. “This is so illegal, Billie.”

“Do you want to end it?”

Ava shot him a reproachful look. “You know I don’t want that.”

“Well then? They’re not gonna do anything about it. S’none of their business, really.”

“I dunno, I just-“ Ava laughed, “I don’t deserve you, you know.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m breaking up you and your wife.” She supplied instead, giving voice to both the arguments that had been warring for dominance in her head since New York. She really didn’t deserve him, she knew that, the second one was just secondary.

“Double bullshit.” He kissed her again, this time deep and scorching. When he’d gotten her good and aroused he pulled back, “You had nothing to do with me leaving her and you sure as hell aren’t stopping me from going back. So quit with that.”

“Do you mean to tell me if you weren’t screwing around with me you wouldn’t have considered that reconciliation when she suggested it two weeks ago?” Ava crossed her arms over her chest and dared him to deny that that was why she hadn’t seen him in two weeks.

He was silent for so long she thought he’d not answer. When he lifted his eyes to hers she jumped. Anger made them glitter a green so intense it was hard to stand up to. “Do you mean to tell me that this,” He gestured between them, “is just us ‘screwing around’?”

“Well no, but-“

“And are you trying to say that you think that’s all I want from you?”

“Billie-“

“Then don’t. Not ever do you hear? If I wanted to be with Adrienne then I would be. Get it?”

“Yeah, but-“

“Am I, or aren’t I with you right now.”

Ava sighed. “You are.”

“Then what does that say?” He prompted, his voice clipped. He’d already been over this once today and he didn’t feel like a second time. Especially not with the one person who was supposed to know better.

“You want to be with me,” she muttered, sounding for all the world like his five-year-old. He rolled his eyes, his mood lightening with her tone.

“Enough to risk prison,” he pointed out, his eyes twinkling. He made a move to kiss her and she dodged. At his questioning look she shot him a mock glare.

“I can cook you know. S’just that veggie crap you insist on calling food that turns out shitty.” She leaned toward his lips. “You tofu lovin’, tree huggin’, liberal freak.”

“I believe you.” His lips silenced further conversation.