Status: I haven't the heart to delete this after committing so much time to it, but I don't have the desire or time to update it either, so it will remain unfinished until further notice.

Green Day Saves the Day

Intervention and New Beginnings

Minty woke up at noon the next day, and Robb still wasn’t home. He met up with Joan for lunch at one, and returned to a cool, silent house at four-thirty. He visited Dré, fidgeted through a horrible sci-fi flick, bought groceries that no one needed—he did anything he could think of to pass the time, but soon his number of options dwindled down to zero and he had to go home. It was eight o’clock when he opened the door to the condo, and still, Robb was not there. Minty didn’t know that he wasn’t planning on being there any time soon.

_________________________________ ***

“Try it again." The patience in Mike's voice had begun to wear thin.

A young woman, somewhere in her late teens to early 20s, attempted the newly-learned bass lick once more. Duh duh dum, dum dum duh, duh. As each note fell precisely into place, the more seasoned player smiled.

“Good,” he said, “Good, Alex. Are you ready to try something else?”

She shook her wavy, brown locks out of her face and beamed. “Sure.”

It was only two weeks ago that Alex had been part of the 2,870,436th musical copy cat, a Polarities tribute band. They were rehearsing in the basement of the lead singer’s home in Torrance when they all got the shock of their lives.

That day was hot with the kind of heat that created tiny puddles of melted tar along the road and made metal door handles too hot to touch. Matt, the lead singer, decided to get his band a few cold drinks while the rest of them desperately tried to cool off by fanning themselves with old magazines. He dragged himself up the basement stairs and into the drastically cooler kitchen. “God, I wish we could practice in here,” he mumbled as he opened up the fridge. He managed to awkwardly get a hold of seven bottles of hard lemonade, and was about to grab another two when someone said, “Need a hand?”

“Yeah man, could you grab two more bottles?” he said. He assumed that the dark-haired man standing in the corner of his field of vision was his friend, and the Polarities’ drummer, Stevie. As Matt turned to his left and started walking toward the door leading down to the basement he added, “Don’t forget to close the fridge.”

“All right,” was the response.

Matt descended down the stairs and said, “Stevie’s bringing down a few more drinks.”

The drummer, who had spread out on the floor with an open magazine, scoffed. “No I’m not.”

“How’d you get down here so fast?” Matt asked.

“I never left,” his friend replied casually.

“What do you mean? You were just in the kitchen with me…”

“I think this heat’s getting to your head, bro.”

“Yeah ‘bro,’ it’s just the heat,” the voice from the kitchen said.

Matt spun around and yelped. Standing a few feet from him on the stairs was a petite, middle-aged man who wore a black T-shirt, faded jeans, and a smirk. Five pairs of widened eyes flew to him.

“Sweet Jesus,” Alex whispered.

Stevie looked down at his magazine which featured an article on the edgy life and sudden death of Billie Joe Armstrong, then back up at the short man on the stairs. His face slapped the magazine as he fainted.

Matt stammered. “What are—Who are you?”

The man sighed in annoyance. “My name’s Billie—“

“…Joe Armstrong from Green Day,” Alex finished in awe.

“Glad to see someone knows,” Billie Joe said with a wink to Alex. He carefully walked down to the bottom of the stairs as Matt stumbled away from him in a hurry.

“Holy shit,” said the band’s keyboard player, Kevin. “Aren’t you, you know, dead?”

“Apparently not,” the rock star replied. “Hey!” he said sharply as he slapped Matt’s hand away. “I don’t like to be pinched.”

“Sorry,” mumbled the embarrassed frontman.

Soon, Tré Cool and Mike Dirnt were introduced, thus beginning the Polarities tribute band’s journey with Green Day. Long, hard song-writing and melody-making sessions soon followed, but those sessions were merely the beginning, as The New was all too aware of.

As Mike continued to drill his new student, his band’s first project was pushed to the back of his mind. Big plans were in store for Robb, Minty, and Dre, but Matt, Alex, Kevin, and Stevie were then Green Day’s first priority.

_________________________________ ***

Minty drove Dré home in silence. They had discussed Robb’s strange behavior at the hospital and it seemed that there was nothing left to talk about. What could possibly be said? He was a grown man with the right to make his own decisions, whether they were the right ones or the wrong ones.

Dré cleared his throat and said, “Radio, on.” Robb’s voice streamed into his and Minty’s ears. He mumbled something that sounded like an apology and turned the station. Robb again. “Damn it,” he said under his breath. “Radio off,” he grumbled. He and Minty settled back into their state of silence for a few more moments until Minty broke it.

“So I was thinking…” he said, his voice was gravelly so he cleared it forcefully. “What if this keeps happening?”

“If what keeps happening?” Dré asked absentmindedly.

“You know what I’m talking about—Robb. If he’s gonna decide that he’s just not gonna show up, do we even want him around?”

“Are you saying we kick him out of the band?”

“No, I’m saying what if we leave it?”

Dré slowly turned to his friend whose eyes remained glued to the road. “Leave? Are you kidding me?”

Minty glanced at his friend briefly and sighed. “I don’t know Dré, it’s just a thought. You know what, just forget I brought it up, okay? Things will probably be back to normal soon enough anyway, right?”

“…Right,” replied Dré as he turned to look out the window at the wilted flowers that grew along the highway. “Man, I hope it rains soon.”

“Yeah, keep hoping.”

At just after 6 pm Minty pulled into the driveway and helped his temporarily handicapped bandmate out of the car. “Can’t believe I’ve got to wear this cast for six weeks,” he groaned. Minty chuckled. “Walk it off, whiner.” His smile fell from his face when he realized that Robb’s spot next to his car was still empty. “Where the hell is he?” he muttered.

Dré and Minty ended up spending most of the night in either the living room or the kitchen; Dré watched TV and Minty talked to Joan on the phone. At about 1, after Dré had gone to sleep, the Message Center began to blink.

“Hey Jojo, I’ll call you back tomorrow. You, too,” Minty said as he clicked his phone off and strolled over to the metallic device which sat on the little table so innocently. Hesitantly, he pressed a button. Soon he found himself listening to Robb, who must have been drinking as his speech was slightly slurred. Music pulsed in the background. “Heyyy, um…Minty! Yeah, hi. Listen, uh—not now, I’m busy. What…oh, yeah. Minty! I dunno if you can hear me but uh—ha ha ha, I totally forgot why I called. Oh! No I didn’t, ha…ha! I’ll be home tomorrow, for soo….fer shhh…for sure! Yeah see you...later.” Finally the message ended with a click.

“Asshole,” Minty said through gritted teeth. In one swift motion he picked up the Message Center and hurled it across the room. It conveniently landed in a potted plant, unharmed. Frustrated and exhausted, Minty dragged himself to the living room and sank down onto the couch. “Lights off,” he commanded. The lights in the kitchen instantly went out, leaving Minty in pitch black darkness. Within minutes he slumped over and fell into a restless sleep.

Minty was awakened by the sound of someone making a mess in the kitchen. He sat up and stretched his cramped body then tried focusing on the clock above the TV. 11:28 am, 9/2/70, 77.2˚F. He turned around to see Dré trying to make breakfast with his one good arm, and he laughed.

“I’m going to assume you’re not laughing at me because that would be rude,” Dré said as he fiddled with the stove.

“Of course I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at the idea of you trying to cook. You could hardly do it with both arms, what makes you think you can do it with just one?”

“You want to be a smartass or help me?”

“Okay, okay, fine,” said the bassist as he walked over to the kitchen. He appeared next to his friend and began drizzling olive oil on a skillet. “Why didn’t you just call up Albert?”

“He left on family emergency. Someone died…or had a baby. I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention when he told me,” Dré said.

“Great,” Minty said with a hint of sarcasm. “So our cook’s gone, and you don’t know why or for how long.”

Dré smiled sheepishly. “Oops.”

After they had breakfast—scrambled eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and pancakes, all washed down by strawberry smoothies—the two friends settled down on the couch and turned on the TV. A tabloid show was the first thing that happened to be on. Images of Minty dashing across the street with Joan in his arms flashed on the screen.

Minty groaned. “God, it happened two nights ago. Why can’t they just forget about it already?”

“They don’t really have a whole lot of people to cover these days,” Dré said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said. He flipped through the channels but nothing else was on but infomercials, talk shows, and soap operas. “Forget this,” Minty said. “I’m going for a walk.” He heaved himself off the couch and left his friend to absorb the drama of a mother who had slept with her daughter’s boyfriend who had impregnated her best friend who had an evil twin who…

As Minty jogged along a private beach, thoughts that he had tried to suppress began to flood his mind. Where’s Robb? Why’s he acting like this? Where’s the band going? Is it worth sticking around to find out? He shook his head and slowed down to a walk. He was two miles from home and had come across a crowded public beach. He put on his sunglasses before anyone noticed him, turned around and began jogging towards home. When he arrived at the foot of the driveway at about 2, he realized that Robb’s car was parked crookedly next to his own. He stormed into the condo and saw him sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal. “We need to talk.”
♠ ♠ ♠
I know, I know, it's been three months since the last update. Really, there's no use in trying to justify that. I've just been lazy.
To my new readers (assuming that I actually have any D: ), thanks for taking the time to read this. I hope it's enough to keep you coming back!
And to my faithful readers/commenters/subscribers that have been with me since the first chapter--that first, horrible, short chapter--I can't thank you enough!
Chapter 18 is already halfway finished and should be posted quite soon.