RockFan
5
Adrienne's POV
I rechecked my reflection in the bathroom mirror; my hair, makeup, and teeth were good. I looked down again at my outfit that I had picked out two nights ago; a black blouse, a black and grey houndstooth skirt, and my knee-high black leather boots. It seemed like a fitting outfit to interview a rock band in, at least I thought so.
I grabbed my breakfast smoothie, my purse, and my hoodie. I exited the apartment and locked the door behind me, then descended the building's main staircase. Once outside I walked to my car in the lot, I got in and began my twenty-minute trip to work. Traffic seemed more jammed this morning than usual, and I couldn't help but wonder if the city dwellers already knew that Green Day were in their town.
*
Billie Joe's POV
I looked down at the city streets below from my suite, the toy-sized cars and miniature civilians moving about. I remembered this view from our last stay here in Minneapolis, I think I've even dreamed about it several times. Some years back I had this very same suite, and it felt now like déjà u, or as if I was again dreaming, to stand beside this window.
Before I could think another minute on my strange thought, a knock sounded at the door. I left my spot by the window to go and see who it was; I looked through the door's peephole. I opened it when I saw it was only Bill with a cardboard tray of Starbucks coffee cups.
"Hey, man, come on," I said. Bill entered the suite and I shut the door behind us.
"Went to Starbucks across the street, I thought the hotel's coffee tasted like shit and figured you probably did too."
"Thanks, you were right," I said, taking one of the cups.
"So, what do you think about this interview today?" Bill asked.
I shrugged, "Oh, I don't know, it's just another interview, you know? It's cool how it's an indie magazine and kind of underground. I bought their latest issue yesterday in a vintage vinyl store, they give a lot of press to local punk bands, which is rare."
"Yeah, the founder, Tim, he sounded like a cool laid back dude," Bill said.
"Is he the one interviewing us?"
Bill shrugged, " Bro, I have no idea."
*
Adrienne's POV
"Oh my god! Where is the fucking catering company?!" Tim cried, his fingers knotting in his hair.
I bit my tongue to keep myself from giggling. Tim was stressing, freaking out, and almost to the point of ripping out his hair. Watching him was a kind of comic relief. Meanwhile, I sat at my desk, sipping at my smoothie and re-reviewing my finalized questions for the billionth time.
"Adrienne!" Tim yelled, startling me so that I nearly fell out of my seat.
"Uh, yeah?" I asked, jumping into a standing position.
"Call the fucking catering people, tell them if they don't get here in five minutes everyone in Minneapolis will know they were fucking late to feed one of the biggest rock bands on earth!"
I nodded and picked up my phone, my fingers trembled as I dialed the numbers. I didn't know if my nerves were from having to call and be mean to the catering company or because Green Day were due to show up in half an hour. Just as the opposite line rang for the third time, I saw a big white van pull up outside our small office building. The curly black lettering on the van read: Anytime Catering. I hung up the phone.
"Tim, they're here," I called. He rushed over to the door and ushered the caterers in, stressing to them that everything needed to be set up in, Tim checked his watch, "Twenty-four minutes!"
"No problem," the heavy-set, mid-forties woman said, smiling.
I grinned, even as my heart pounded in my throat. I'd never been so excited.
I rechecked my reflection in the bathroom mirror; my hair, makeup, and teeth were good. I looked down again at my outfit that I had picked out two nights ago; a black blouse, a black and grey houndstooth skirt, and my knee-high black leather boots. It seemed like a fitting outfit to interview a rock band in, at least I thought so.
I grabbed my breakfast smoothie, my purse, and my hoodie. I exited the apartment and locked the door behind me, then descended the building's main staircase. Once outside I walked to my car in the lot, I got in and began my twenty-minute trip to work. Traffic seemed more jammed this morning than usual, and I couldn't help but wonder if the city dwellers already knew that Green Day were in their town.
*
Billie Joe's POV
I looked down at the city streets below from my suite, the toy-sized cars and miniature civilians moving about. I remembered this view from our last stay here in Minneapolis, I think I've even dreamed about it several times. Some years back I had this very same suite, and it felt now like déjà u, or as if I was again dreaming, to stand beside this window.
Before I could think another minute on my strange thought, a knock sounded at the door. I left my spot by the window to go and see who it was; I looked through the door's peephole. I opened it when I saw it was only Bill with a cardboard tray of Starbucks coffee cups.
"Hey, man, come on," I said. Bill entered the suite and I shut the door behind us.
"Went to Starbucks across the street, I thought the hotel's coffee tasted like shit and figured you probably did too."
"Thanks, you were right," I said, taking one of the cups.
"So, what do you think about this interview today?" Bill asked.
I shrugged, "Oh, I don't know, it's just another interview, you know? It's cool how it's an indie magazine and kind of underground. I bought their latest issue yesterday in a vintage vinyl store, they give a lot of press to local punk bands, which is rare."
"Yeah, the founder, Tim, he sounded like a cool laid back dude," Bill said.
"Is he the one interviewing us?"
Bill shrugged, " Bro, I have no idea."
*
Adrienne's POV
"Oh my god! Where is the fucking catering company?!" Tim cried, his fingers knotting in his hair.
I bit my tongue to keep myself from giggling. Tim was stressing, freaking out, and almost to the point of ripping out his hair. Watching him was a kind of comic relief. Meanwhile, I sat at my desk, sipping at my smoothie and re-reviewing my finalized questions for the billionth time.
"Adrienne!" Tim yelled, startling me so that I nearly fell out of my seat.
"Uh, yeah?" I asked, jumping into a standing position.
"Call the fucking catering people, tell them if they don't get here in five minutes everyone in Minneapolis will know they were fucking late to feed one of the biggest rock bands on earth!"
I nodded and picked up my phone, my fingers trembled as I dialed the numbers. I didn't know if my nerves were from having to call and be mean to the catering company or because Green Day were due to show up in half an hour. Just as the opposite line rang for the third time, I saw a big white van pull up outside our small office building. The curly black lettering on the van read: Anytime Catering. I hung up the phone.
"Tim, they're here," I called. He rushed over to the door and ushered the caterers in, stressing to them that everything needed to be set up in, Tim checked his watch, "Twenty-four minutes!"
"No problem," the heavy-set, mid-forties woman said, smiling.
I grinned, even as my heart pounded in my throat. I'd never been so excited.