She Screams in Silence

Billie glanced at Tre, “Um, buddy, I’m sensing some relationship trouble here if your girlfriend is frenching a pillow she’s pretending is me.” He walked over and snatched it from her, “You didn’t slobber on it, did you?”

“Sunshinesweetypiehunneybun,” Tre began tentatively to Cat, “is there something you would like to share?”

“No! I was imitating her!!” Cat shrieked, pointing to Felicity. “I’m not the one who’s letting Billie hit bases with me!”

The three of them smirked as the color drained out of Felicity’s face. She smacked Cat on the arm, hissing, “I told you that in confidence!” Suddenly realizing the other three could still hear her, her ashen face turned crimson and she buried it in her hands, groaning. “That wasn’t what I meant,” her feeble argument came muffled.

“Score,” Mike nodded in pride, giving Billie’s arm a light shove, which appeared to be some sort of friendly gesture.

“Getting hot between the sheets there, are ya?” Tre bobbed his eyebrows, shoving Billie from the other side. Billie just grinned.

Positively mortified, Felicity jumped up and dashed to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. This was beyond humiliating! She could never face any of them again! And as for Billie...oh God, she’d rather die than look him in the eye again!

“Oh shit! I didn’t mean to embarrass her like that!” Cat cried. “You think I should go check on her?” she began to stand.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go,” Billie shook his head, walking down the hall.

“So that’s what girls talk about?” Tre asked, intrigued, as he took a seat next to Cat.

Mike took a seat on the other side, “Yeah, girls talk about...sex?”

Cat smirked, “I’m not sure how to break this to you guys, but girls talk about everything. And I mean everything. You guys might brag about it to each other, but we don’t. We’re honest. Brutally honest. Like if you do something freaky, trust me, all your girlfriend’s friends will know within about...three days. And, if the girl in question is close with her mother, chances are she might know, too.”

Tre and Mike’s faces paled. That hadn’t exactly been where they were hoping the conversation was going to go. They had had faint hopes of Cat telling them girls talked about all their sexual escapades in particularly complimentary fashions before resorting to the classic pillow-fight-in-underwear.

Back down the hall, Billie was rapping softly on the door, “Hey, Felicity, come on, it’s fine. All forgotten, no problem.”

“You are so full of shit,” came her voice from the other side.

“Okay, that is true, but you can still come out. No one cares that you tell everyone what a hot kisser I am.”

“Oh my God.”

“I know, that’s what they all say,” he shrugged. He leaned against the door, “So please come out?? I promise no one will make fun of you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I...I can’t look at you!”

“Okay, well, um, come out with your eyes closed.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yes,” he nodded, “but I’m the idiot you play tongue twister with.”

Silence. Then, “Okay, now I’m really never coming out again.”

Billie smacked his head against the door, “Ugh, sorry, sorry. Joke.” He jiggled the handle, “Please open up? Pleeeease??”

“You sound so juvenile.”

“Yes, it’s very endearing. Now please open the door before I...have a temper tantrum and throw myself on the floor kicking and screaming.”

Finally came the sound of the lock being undone and then the door being opened a crack to reveal Felicity’s face. “Do you have any idea what a weird person you are?”

“I tell myself that every day,” Billie agreed, pushing the door open further and stepping in. He shut it behind him. “So we’re good now?”

Felicity shrugged, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub. Truth be told, she would rather have been just about anywhere else than having this conversation that kept threatening to get awkward.

Billie exhaled slowly. “We’re not okay, then. What’s the problem?”

“It’s just...” she fiddled with her bracelet, keeping her head down and wishing he’d drop it or she could magically turn back the clock and violently murder poor Cat, “the thing is...um, I didn’t mean to tell Cat about...that is to say, I don’t know what you and I...I mean...God, nevermind, I have no idea what I’m talking about.”

Billie grinned, reaching down and taking her hand to pull her up. “Felicity, don’t worry so much.”

She managed a faint smile, trying to pretend her heart hadn’t just sped up when he grabbed her hand. “I know, I’m sorry. I...overreacted, I guess. It was just...embarrassing, you know?”

“Eh, fuhgeddaboudit,” Billie waved his hand, sounding suddenly like some New York mafioso or Robert De Niro.

Felicity began laughing, but she cut off as his hands suddenly slipped around her waist. “Um, what are you doing?” she tried to keep her voice calm even though her pulse wasn’t just racing anymore––it was sprinting.

“Giving you something else to hate Cat for blabbing,” he murmured, smiling. Before she could even react, he pulled her against him, setting his mouth on hers. Felicity caught her breath, her arms going around him, letting him pull her tight against him. Billie maneuvered them around so Felicity’s back was pressed against the door as he leaned in to her. She didn’t even think to protest. Rather, her hand twined in the back of his hair as she prayed he’d never break the kiss. She let him part her lips and his tongue to slip into her mouth. She gave a little gasp of surprise, however, as he deepened their kiss, and she felt him smiling against her mouth. His fingertips were softly running up and down her sides from her hips to up along her ribcage, grazing her skin right through the fabric of her shirt. Felicity’s arms tightened around him, pulling him in closer.

“What happened to them?” Cat wondered, looking down the hall. “Don’t tell me she’s still upset.”

“Let’s go see!” Tre gave a bounce on his heels before skipping towards the bathroom, Mike and Cat trailing. “Howdy, there! Did you guys die?” Tre called out cheerfully as he opened the bathroom door.

This proved to be a very bad motion, for Felicity, who had had her back against the door, tumbled out, almost falling over. Billie, who still had his arms around her, lost his balance as well, and the two ended up slamming against the wall that was a few feet across from the door. Blushing brightly, Felicity pushed Billie away, trying to avoid the eyes of the other three. Billie shoved his hands into his pockets, giving a little off-key whistle. He shrugged at the trio, “Hey, guys. What’s new?”

“Not much,” Mike got out.

Tre leaned in to Cat and whispered loudly, “I think Billie made her feel better.”

“Right, so, back to where we were before you guys walked in and they went off to do Lord only knows what––” Cat changed the subject.

“Discussing the love life of Billie Joe and Felicity? Or do you want us to make out with more pillows? Careful, Tre might start humping his,” Mike quipped.

“Um, no,” Cat stared at him before whacking his arm. “Anywho,” she said slowly, “I told Felicity I was going to give her a makeover. Maybe you guys can help?”

“Oh my God!” Tre squealed, before sashaying back and forth, doing little pirouettes. “We can paint her nails!! And buy her pretty, pretty high heels!” He went up on tiptoe, balancing on the balls of his feet as though he had a pair of stilettos on, one hand on his waist, as he gave an exaggerated swing to his hips.

“Yeah, no. I was thinking about buying her a pair of jeans.”

Tre’s face fell. “You don’t really want to make us go shopping with you, do you?”

“You can give input. It’ll be good for you.” Tre began whining, so she added to him, “Look, will you do it if I promise to try on something massively inappropriate of your choosing?”

“I love shopping.”

“You really want to do this?” Billie turned to Felicity.

“You’re saying this like I have an option,” she grinned wryly. “Besides, I honestly hate what I look like right now so...”

“So let’s go!” Cat cut in, dragging them out the door. Mike stayed behind, his excuse the muttered words of “bass,” “strings,” and what sounded like, “mango.”

“So...where are we going, exactly?” Felicity asked as she was dragged down Shattuck.

“To the BART!” Cat announced.

“To the BART!” Tre echoed.

Billie turned back to her and shrugged. “Guess we’re going to the BART.”

Heading down one of the staircases to the BART station and dodging a homeless man who decided to seek temporary shelter on one of the steps, Cat and Tre led the way, linking arms and skipping towards the ticket machines and then to the electric turnstiles before bounding down another flight of steps to the platform for the trains.

Once down there, Tre seemed to find it extremely amusing to quickly hop onto a train bound for Fremont before Cat dragged him out––Billie and Felicity had elected to take a seat on one of the concrete benches.

Within five minutes, Felicity’s question was actually answered, as a train pulled in with the intercom bellowing, “Eight-car train, San Francisco-Daly City,” and Cat pulling her in. Tre and Cat raced to opposite ends of the car, whereupon they began carrying on a very loud conversation across the space. Felicity and Billie took one of the cheaply upholstered green seats across from a large map of the Bay Area filled with brightly colored lines for the BART system, their feet scuffing the blue threadbare carpet. The view wasn’t much, as half the time the train was running underground, and when above, one was treated to a panorama of the Oakland slums, seen through slightly grimy windows. When the train finally dove down for the trip across the bay, dropping so much Felicity’s ears popped, the air whooshing by at nearly apocalyptic decibels, she unconsciously grabbed onto Billie’s arm.

“What’s the matter?” he grinned at her. “You’ve been on the BART before, haven’t you? I mean, to San Francisco.”

“Um...no,” Felicity shook her head, looking around nervously at the shaking car, having to practically shout to be heard.

“Oh. Well, as you can see, you’re missing out on some grand excitement,” he nodded. He grinned again, “But no worries. I shall protect you.” To emphasize his point, he gave her leg a reassuring pat––except afterwards he kept his hand there.

“Um, Billie?”

“Yes?” he looked at her innocently.

“Uh...nothing.”

When they reached the Powell station, Cat raced towards the stairs, proclaiming loudly, “Fashion galore that way!”

“How did Mike manage to get out of this?” Billie whispered to Tre as they walked onto Powell in the direction of Union Square.

“He’s magic.”

Once they had reached the stores that lined the Westin St. Francis Hotel, Cat made them pause for what she deemed a necessary reconnaissance. She turned to Felicity, “For starters, do you have any colored underwear? I mean, anything? You sort of seem like a white cotton type of gal.”

Felicity glanced to Billie and Tre in horror before whispering, “I’m not telling you people what color underwear I have!”

“I was right,” Cat nodded. “White all the way. Come on, sweety,” she grabbed her hand, dragging her in the direction of Victoria’s Secret, “the very least thing you need in your wardrobe is a black bra. In fact,” she paused before pivoting back to Felicity and grabbing the collar of her shirt, taking a quick glance at her bra, “we may even want to get you something with an underwire. Are you aware only little girls wear things like that?”

Felicity yelped, jumping away from her and crossing her arms over her chest, “What the hell was that?! You just looked down my shirt!!”

Billie blinked. “Damn, she beat me to it. Tre, your girlfriend gets all the action.”

“I am so turned on right now,” Tre skipped happily behind Cat and unhappy Felicity into Victoria’s Secret, Billie following along behind. Felicity instantly blushed at the sight of the extremely racy lingerie on display around them, trying to ignore the snickers of Billie and Tre as they suddenly made a point of digging through the table settings of g-strings and squeezing the cups of the padded bras.

“What do you think?” Billie questioned innocently, holding a bright pink diamond-studded thong at his hips.

“Lovely, darling!” Tre nodded, garbed in a lacy red bra.

“Sir, these items are for women,” a disgusted saleswoman approached him, pulling the straps from his shoulders.

“Hey!” Tre gasped indignantly, putting his hands against his chest. “Maybe I need support for my man-boobs! Don’t discriminate!”

Blushing furiously sometime later, Felicity stepped out of the store, her properly fitting purchases in tow in pink striped bags, wisps of pink tissue paper sticking out of them. Following dejectedly, she trailed Cat who was leading the way towards the eight-story Macy’s, Tre and Billie between them, arms linked and skipping. Inside, Cat led the way, holding out various items aloft for Felicity’s approval.

“Here. You must get this,” Cat picked up a shirt, nodding and smiling manically.

“What is it?”

“The Ramones,” Cat stared at her as though Felicity had just magically started speaking Hungarian.

“The who?”

“The Ramones,” Billie appeared at her side, correcting her. “And just what is with your obsession with The Who? Look, we’ll listen to them later. I promise.”

“Oh!” the metaphorical lightbulb snapped on above Felicity’s head. “That’s the band you had me listen to! That sedated song!”

Tre raised an eyebrow, “Um, do The Ramones have anything that’s slow and sedated?”

“I think she means ‘I Wanna be Sedated,’” Billie explained.

“Should I really be wearing the band t-shirt if I haven’t really listened to a lot of their music?” Felicity frowned.

“Eh, you may have a point,” Cat conceded. “Oo, I have a better idea of what we should get you! You two wait right here!” Cat directed Billie and Tre as she grabbed onto Felicity’s arm, making a beeline for another rack of clothing. Across several floor displays, Cat finally stopped, browsing through the line of hangers before pulling out a particular dress. It was knee-length and black with a somewhat plunging V-neckline––and obviously form-fitting.

“Oh, I don’t know about that one,” Felicity shook her head, backing away.

“Come on, every girl needs an LBD.”

“A what?”

“An LBD. Or an FMD...your preference what you want to call it, really,” Cat shrugged.

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“LBD––Little Black Dress. You get it now? It’s a staple of any woman’s wardrobe. The little sexy thing that makes you feel fabulous and...erm...sexy.”

“Um, okay,” Felicity said slowly. “But wait, what is an FMD?”

Cat gave a devilish grin, “You’ll get mad if I tell you, even though it’s true.”

“What? Just tell me.”

She laughed quietly before replying, “FMD––Fuck Me Dress.”

“What?! I’m not buying something like that!” Felicity nearly screeched.

“Oh, get over it, you little prude!” Cat shook her head. “Look, it doesn’t mean if you wear it you have to have sex. It’s just...something you have in your closet, you know? You wear it on a hot date.”

“And since when would I have any use for such an item?”

Cat only raised an eyebrow, clearing her throat. “Starts with a Billie, ends with a Joe.”

“Shut up. Billie and I aren’t...I mean, we’re just...”

“You’re just...?” Cat twirled her hand.

“I have no clue,” Felicity groaned.

“Well, while you’re trying to figure it out, go try on the dress for shits and giggles,” Cat ushered her forward towards the dressing rooms.

Felicity reluctantly acquiesced, stepping back out a few minutes later to showcase the item.

Cat shook her head, grinning, “Billie is going to have heart failure and hit the floor when he sees you in this.”

“What? Cat, I don’t know...”

“You really do look fantastic. Honest.”

“I...do?” Felicity wavered, never having felt like she looked “fantastic” in her life.

“M-hm. And...it’s on sale.”

Felicity turned for her wallet, “You think I can buy it before a certain gentleman sees it?”

• • •

“Come on,” Billie held out his hand to Felicity once they had stepped out of Macy’s. He, of course, hadn’t seen her little black purchase.

“What? Where?”

“You say you hate looking like you’re nine. So we’re going to go fix it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Cat got you clothes. But now...” he paused, gesturing to the building they stood in front of––a hair salon.

“I don’t understand.”

“You like having blonde hair?”

“No.”

“What color do you want it to be?”

“Well...well, it’s naturally pretty dark brown. My mom just thought it looked better blonde and she takes me to get it done and tells the stylist what to do. I always kind of liked it dark myself.”

He gave her a sideways grin, “I dare you to dye it black.”

“Are you crazy?!”

He laughed, holding the door open for her, “Come on, go do what you want.”

Felicity gave a little smile, stepping through and bidding adieu to her blonde hair forever.

• • •

Some hours later, the quartet returned to Berkeley and Mike having joined them, Felicity and Cat were holed up in the bathroom, completing the former’s new look. The guys were on the sofa half-heartedly debating the likelihood of the existence of mole-people.

“They would have to live in an underground cavern!” Tre insisted.

Mike frowned, “Yes, but what would they eat?”

Billie sighed, “You guys are both morons. Clearly, the mole-people are––”

“Okay,” Cat walked out, interrupting them and gesturing to the door, “presenting the brand new and improved Miss Felicity Bennet!”

She didn’t appear.

“Yo, Lissie-B! Get out here!” Cat called to her.

“Oh God, please never talk like that again,” Felicity appeared, staring at Cat, horrified.

“Wow,” Billie whispered, his eyes widening at the sight of her. Cat hadn’t done anything drastic, but every little thing made all the difference. Felicity was naturally pretty, of course, but now she looked...amazing. Though her hair had deep red subtle highlights running through it (that being as far as she would take it, going black feeling a bit too crazy), now that it was dark brown it looked so much more natural and flattering on her. She no longer looked like Barbie’s little sister in a production of Grease. Cat had put some more makeup on her, so her brown eyes were brought out by the dark eyeliner and mascara and her lips were ruby red (which would have looked garish with the blonde hair, but as a brunette, seemed to fit her). And her body––her body was...Billie shook his head, forcing himself to pick his jaw off the ground and try to dispel some rather wicked thoughts that were crossing his mind. She wasn’t in anything fancy––jeans that fit her well and a fitted red top.

“Billie stopped blinking,” Mike remarked.

“Or...breathing,” Tre added, poking Billie in the arm and being met with no response.