Whatsername

"Okay, let me get this straight... you made us watch Taz, here," Billie paused, pointing to Frankito, who still had his eyes glued to the television like his life depended on it, "so you didn't have to go to the ice cream place... and then you end up going there anyway?!"

"Yep, pretty much!" Tre grinned, sitting on the floor next to his son, happily eating his ice cream cone as he yelled at one of cartoon characters. "Screw you, Angel Cake! You fucking whore!"

Billie groaned, standing up from the couch, his hands in front him as he started to lunge towards Tre.

"No strangling your drummer," I ordered, quickly pulling him back by his shirt.

"But, but, but... he's so-- ugh! I hate him! And I just want to kill him," he complained. "Why is he always here?! Doesn't he have his own house?!"

"Shhh!" shushed the girl that had followed Tre into the house a few minutes before. She glared at us before continuing her conversation about ponies. Evidently she had her cell phone permanently glued to her ear. "I know! The brown ones are so cute! I found this really adorable one last week, but Daddy wouldn't buy it for me...," she paused, turning her glare towards Tre.

"Ramona," Billie explained, pointing to her and rolling his eyes.

"I figured...." I nodded and listened as she continued to complain about Tre never buying her anything.

"Oh, Mona, put your phone away! Kate might get hurt!" Tre yelped after finally taking his eyes off the TV. She rolled her eyes and closed her cell phone, sticking it in her Hello Kitty purse with a sigh.

"Tre, if you don't stop with that, I'm going to fucking murder you with your own drumsticks," Billie threatened. Tre gulped and turned back to the TV, slowly and carefully licking his ice cream.

"Don't you think you're overreacting-- just a little?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as Billie continued to scowl at his drummer.

Billie sighed, shaking his head. He finally stopped glaring at the back of Tre's head and turned to face me. "No, you have to do that, or he'll never stop. For example, three years ago, Mike bought a pair of pants that Tre thought were 'silly'-- but if you ask me, all of Mike's pants are silly. Anyway, anytime Mike wore those pants, Tre would poke his legs and giggle... so Mike finally threatened to shove Tre's head through his snare drum, and Tre hasn't said anything about his pants since."

"Mike's pants are silly...," I said after thinking back to the green and yellow plaid ones he'd had on the other day. "I wonder if his closet is full of plaid pants...."

"It is, trust me," Tre said sadly, nodding his head and turning back to his movie.

"Yeah, his fashion sense is a little out there. Not everyone can be as blessed as I am," Billie sighed, gesturing to his outfit. I raised my eyebrows as I looked at his clothes.

"You're wearing purple boxers, a red T-shirt, and green, fuzzy slippers..," I said, staring at him.

He grinned. "I know. I should be a fucking fashion guru!"

"Good idea, Bill. Everyone would be wandering around in leopard thongs and red ties," Tre said, smiling thoughtfully as a pillow flew by his head. Billie groaned, cursing his bad aim under his breath, and Tre stuck out his tongue.

"You're one to talk, Mr. 'I'll wear white after labor day just to spite those stupid people who came up with that fucked up rule,'" Billie said with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tre, considering this as some sort of a challenge, continued with insulting Billie's style. "Your sock drawer looks like it belongs to a blind clown."

"Why does the clown have to be blind?" I asked, confused as Billie glared at Tre.

"'Cause you'd have to be blind to wear socks that fucking ugly!" Tre explained with a smirk.

"At least I wear socks," Billie grumbled. I looked down at Tre's flip-flop clad feet and laughed.

"I wear socks!" Tre gasped indignantly. After that, basically all I could hear was the two of them yelling and babbling about who had the weirdest colored ties, who had the biggest collection of thongs, and who looked the trashiest when dressed as a woman.

"I doubt you own one pair of normal fitting pants in your entire closet!" Tre spat. Billie's eyes narrowed.

"Oh, yeah?! I'll prove it to you!" He quickly jumped off the couch and ran upstairs.

By this time, the movie had ended, and Frankito and Ramona were staring at Tre and me like we had just turned into weird, mutant ducks and had brutally ripped off an innocent's head.

"Dad, who is this?" Ramona asked, pointing to me. "Is she Uncle Billie's new girlfriend?"

"No," Tre scoffed, rolling his eyes. "She loves me too much."

I rolled my eyes as Tre grinned at me. "Moron."

"Ramona, this is Kate. Kate, this is Ramona," he sighed. I waved, and Ramona went back to ignoring me like before.

"I'm Taz!" Frankito said proudly as a phone rang.

Tre grabbed Billie's cell phone off the coffee table, clearing his throat before answering it with a high falsetto. "Billie Joe's cell phone. I'm Tammy, his naughty secretary. How may I help you?"

"Tre, you idiot, put Billie on the phone," Adrienne's annoyed voice sighed from the phone's squeaky speaker. I bit my lip, hoping she wasn't going to yell again.

"Hey, Adie... Billie's upstairs going through his pants. He's looking for a normal fitting pair. Yeah, he probably will be up there for a while. So... how have you been?" Tre asked, trying to start a conversation.

After a few seconds of trying to listen to her muffled voice, I sighed, giving up on eavesdropping. I awkwardly glanced around the room as Ramona glared at me, silently blaming me for ending her important discussion with her friend.

"Uh-huh, that sounds awful...." Tre turned to me and rolled his eyes, appearing to be very uninterested in what she was complaining about.

A few minutes later, Billie came running into the room, throwing a handful of his pants in Tre's face. "Take that, bitch. Those fit perfectly. I checked," he said, grinning proudly.

"And he's still acting like a little dipshit, huh? Have you tried locking him out of the house for an hour or two?" Tre continued his conversation as he set the clothes next him on the couch, ignoring Billie's confused expression.

Billie stared at Tre with a raised eyebrow and turned to me. "Who is he talking to on my cell phone?"

Adrienne, I mouthed silently.

"What are they talking about?" he asked hesitantly, and I shrugged. He groaned and grabbed the phone from Tre. "Hello? Hi, what's up? Oh."

I looked at Tre, who seemed both bothered and relieved that Billie had stolen the phone from him. "What were you talking about?"

"Jakob's being a shithead," he stated simply, like it was ridiculous for me not to know what he was talking about.

My eyebrows raised slightly. "I thought you were talking about a dog...."

"Well, tell him if he doesn't start listening to you, he won't be allowed to come visit me at all. Yeah, I know. Tell him I'll kick his butt if he keeps it up." I shifted uncomfortably as Billie laughed. I didn't know why it was bugging me, but it definitely was as Billie continued to joke and giggle. Adrienne wasn't yelling and screaming like before... but I think I had liked it better that way.

When Billie started mentioning me in their conversation, I decided I'd had enough and stood up, walking into the kitchen to get some much needed caffeine. I opened the fridge and grabbed a soda, contemplating on whether I should go back into the living room or get some fresh air in the backyard.... I chose outside.

I walked out the back door and sat in a chair that was currently in the shade of a pretty tree. I smiled and closed my eyes, liking the silence. It was always noisy when Tre was over, and it was usually impossible to get away from him, but now that his kids were here to distract him, I could finally get some peace and quiet.

"Hey, there you are. You left me in there with a bunch of lunatics... meanie." I opened my eyes and looked to the left. Billie was standing outside, his arms crossed over his chest as he pretended to pout.

"Sorry," I said, shrugging innocently. "I had to get out of there. I was starting to get a headache." I took a sip of my soda and tried to ignore him as he walked over.

"You're going to pay for that," he growled. I looked up at him questioningly, my eyebrows raised, and he quickly sat on top of me in the chair. I wriggled and squealed underneath him, but it was no use. I was pinned. He turned his head, trying not to smirk as he watched me struggle. "Say you're sorry."

"Get off! I can't breathe, you fat ass!" I huffed. He giggled and leaned back farther, squishing me even more. "Okay, okay, fine. I'm sorry."

"Thank you," he mumbled, turning around so he was straddling me. I glared at him, and he smirked, leaning down to kiss me. I blocked his face with my hand, and he groaned. "Why not now?"

"Because we're not supposed to, remember?"

"Nope," he said and smiled carelessly, this time trying to attack my neck. I pushed him away and held him back at arms length. "Ugh. I hate you."

"No, you don't hate me. You hate Tre," I teased as he tried to fight my arms away. "Come on, knock it off. You're acting like a five-year-old... a horny five-year-old. Just stop!"

"Fine, I don't need you," he huffed, standing up and walking back into the house. "I'll go make out with Tre...."