Green Day Saves the Day

The light hurt his face, it penetrated his eyelids, it forced him to squint. He shielded his eyes and looked about him. To his left he saw a wall of leather. To his right stood two familiar figures. They were…so familiar, yet he couldn’t quite place them.

“Are you awake, Billie Joe?” That voice rang a bell, too.

“He wouldn’t have his eyes open if he wasn’t awake, now would he?” That other voice, a bit higher and slightly nasally was one he’d heard nearly every day for decades. Tré! And Mike. Memories flooded his brain. He’d been knocked out in a fight. Was he the one fighting? No, no, there were two other guys fighting—Robb and Minty!

Billie forced his eyes wide open with his arm still draped over his face and groaned, “Where’s that sonuvabitch Robb? I’ve got a bone to pick with him.”

His life-long friends laughed and slapped his back as he slowly sat up on the couch in The New’s condo which he’d laid on for two days straight. Billie smiled, grateful to have his memory intact and to have his friends by his side. The laughter and the relief soon subsided, however, and each man in the room fell silent and grave.

“Where’s Robb?” Billie repeated, firm and expectant.

Tré and Mike exchanged a glance that translated to, “You tell him.”

Tré sighed and took on the daunting task. “Billie, it’s not Robb you need to worry about right now.”

“Minty and Dré are gone.” The last thing Mike wanted to do was make this bad news any worse by beating around the bush.

“What do you mean “gone”?” Billie scowled.

“Apparently they’ve all been fighting for some time and they all just got…fed up, I guess. Dré and Minty just walked out, and Robb made no attempt to stop them.”

Mike and Tré held their breath, waiting to see how Billie would react to all his months of dedication being thrown away so carelessly by his own relative.

Billie chewed over this bit of information for a moment and then asked once more, “Where’s Robb?”

Tré raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well he’s not coming back here anytime soon, that’s for sure. We left him at TopHat with the tour bus, so he could be anywhere by now.”

“If he’s not coming to us, we’ll have to go to him,” Billie said. He swung his legs around and planted his feet firmly on the floor. He heaved himself up with a grunt, and then collapsed onto the couch again. “We’ll go to him…in a few minutes.”

Miles away, as Billie regained his strength, Robb eyed his bandaged hand with disgust. The smooth white cast reminded him of how he had come to fracture three fingers trying to obliterate Minty’s pretty boy face. He wanted to knock out some of those perfect straight teeth—those teeth that had cost his family so much money to get fixed when he was 15 years old. They didn’t have much but his mom always wanted him to have the best. No one but Robb knew how guilty Minty would feel when his mom cut into her savings to give him what she thought he deserved. He never felt like he deserved much…Robb shook his head fiercely and muttered, “Forget about it.” He probably looked crazy to the other patrons in the bar, but he didn’t care. He had to shake away these memories, these damned links that kept him attached to Minty in mind and spirit. He slammed the counter with his uncrippled left hand and demanded another beer. Unwanted memories? Nothing that can’t be washed down, and washed away, he thought. He knew that was a lie but he had to believe in it in order to prevent him from missing his friends.

About an hour later, Robb half-walked, half-tripped to his car that sat in the bar’s vacant parking lot. He’d returned the tour bus and put his Lamborghini up for sale, for he wouldn’t be able to afford such a car for much longer. He’d soon have to do the same for the condo, too. He wasn’t sure how he could do that without the other two owners’ consent, but he’d figure something out. The rented car, a 2047 Honda, reeked of that new car smell. Of course it was far from new but the shady rental center seemed to have a habit of bathing all their cars with leather-scented air freshener. Robb sighed the sort of sigh that’s exhaled when one carries the weight of the world on their shoulders and has no choice but to relieve themselves of that weight, bit by tiny, tiresome bit. He closed his eyes and reclined his seat. Just a few moments later he sensed a presence nearby, and opened his eyes. Billie was staring back at him. Robb gasped and cringed, then quickly tried to hide his shock by noting Billie’s recovery and apologizing to him. Billie cut him short.

“Robb, I think you know that my being here doesn’t have anything to do with you knocking me unconscious.”

“I think that has something to do with it,” Tré chimed in. He and Mike had appeared in the back seat within the last minute or so.

Robb looked away from his great-great-great-grandfather in shame. He knew that he knew what had happened.

“I just want you to know, Robb, that we’re done too. If you don’t think this mission is worth time and compromise on your part, then you’re not worth our time and compromise. Good bye, Robb,” Billie said. His tone was surprisingly void of emotion or remorse. He knew that he need not be sorry for the decision he had reached.

When Robb turned around a minute later, Green Day was gone. He became numb; his mind switched to default. He couldn’t function; he could hardly think. All he could do was turn on the Honda which reeked of leather, listen to the radio, recline his seat once again, and sleep off the alcohol that coursed through his veins.

He awoke an hour later to the sound of the radio. He pulled his seat up and grabbed the steering wheel. He stayed in that position for several minutes, listening to the radio. A holographic image of the host illuminated the windshield before him. Her guest, an elderly man who appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent was a scientist of some sort—or an engineer. Robb hadn’t really been paying attention. The scientist/engineer seemed very excited, as if he had really great news to deliver. Turns out, that was exactly the case. “After nearly 30 years of tireless effort, the first flying car has been developed. It runs strictly on used vegetable oil, and emits less than 1% of the harmful fuels emitted by traditional vehicles. It’s expected that by the end of 2072 these cars—“

Robb shut off the radio. Great, flying cars. Something else I won’t be able to afford.

________________________________***

Minty rapped the counter top with his index finger. “How about this, Dré?: one bedroom, one bath, and half a kitch—nevermind. I don’t want to know what half a kitchen looks like.”

“It’s probably got half a sink, half a fridge, half a—“ Dré said seriously.

“Oh shut up,” his short-fused friend couldn’t keep the corners of his mouth from curving up when he attempted to snap at him. “We’ve got to find somewhere to live; we can’t stay with Darren forever.”

“True,” Dré sighed. “It’s too bad though—he’s got a real nice place.”

It was true that Minty’s friend house was indeed “nice.” As a matter of fact, it was a place of luxury. Everything was cutting edge, lush…and expensive. Darren, who agreed to let the suddenly homeless pair crash for a few weeks, was out making the money he needed in order to upkeep his lavish lifestyle. In the meantime, the two former members of The New took full advantage of the technology incorporated in nearly every square foot of his living quarters. In the kitchen counter top was a touch screen monitor which served as a virtual daily newspaper, phonebook, contacts list, to-do list, and chess board. Minty and Dré were using the newspaper feature to search for a new home that they could afford. They continued scrolling for several minutes before Dré voiced something that had been bothering him. Surprisingly, it had nothing to do with Robb; it had nothing to do with Green Day showing up earlier that day to tell them that they were returning to the spirit world. What was bothering Dré was the seemingly deteriorating relationship between his friend and Joan.

“You guys used to spend hours on the phone. What happened?” he inquired.

“Nothing. She’s just…she’s a little mad that I didn’t tell her about Green Day earlier. She thought I didn’t trust her or whatever.”

Dré nodded in understanding. “But you guys are still together, right?”

Minty put his home-hunting on hold and looked up at his friend. A bit flustered and confused by his sudden interest in his personal life, he could only manage a nod.

“That’s good,” Dré said. A brief silence followed. “Look, Minty—I’m just asking because with where we are and what we’re doing…”

“…Yeah?”

“You can’t afford to lose your grip on what you have with Joan. She’s your link to sanity, you know?”

Minty nodded once more, then smiled. “I think you’ve got a point,” he said. “I’ll call her tonight.”

A few more minutes passed before Minty exclaimed, “Got it! I’ve got it. Look at this one, it’s perfect.”

Dré took a look for himself and agreed: they’d found a place to start a new chapter in their lives.

________________________________***

December soon greeted Southern California with tolerably cool temperatures which called for citizens to wear nothing more than a light sweater. During the four weeks in which stores made the switch from fiber optic turkeys to the most life-like Rudolphs one could possibly imagine, great and terrible (but mostly terrible) transformations were taking place in the music industry.

As Robb waited for his hand to heal, he decided it was time to find replacements for Minty and Dré. He figured it would be a cakewalk to find two eager and slightly obsessive fans of the band that were dying to live out their fantasy of actually getting to play with Robb. Much to the guitarist’s surprise, the actual result proved to be a huge blow to his ego. When The New’s fans heard that Minty and Dré had left, the majority of them simply turned their backs on them in favor of the “next big thing in music”: a newer band—and the only new one for that matter—called Take It Higher. The world was content with believing that the upbeat pop-rock band had come out of “nowhere”, not unlike The New. But Robb knew better.

“Damn it, Billie,” he cursed his ghost of an elder when he first caught wind of the young band’s overnight success. Suddenly, all the billboards that had once belonged to The New were flashing these other people’s faces and names. Take It Higher, Take It Higher—they were everywhere Robb had once been: billboards, TV, radio. Suddenly their merchandise was up in store windows while The New’s sat untouched in 75%-off piles and freebie bins. These four young adults—three guys and a strangely familiar-looking girl—were everything Robb had once been, and soon enough they’d probably have all that he once had, too.

Even as Robb found himself in a dumpy apartment far away from Hollywood where he had once again resorted to gaining sustenance from frozen food and instant noodles, he continued to live in denial. He refused to accept that what he really was, was over. His car and his huge TV were gone, but his pride certainly wasn’t. He went on with the auditions to find a new bassist and drummer. When less than 30 hopeful musicians showed up, he still didn’t give in to reality. He convinced himself that his life of fame and fortune could be resurrected the way he had resurrected music. This desperate conviction of his led him to find a drummer, Jack, and a bassist, Davis. Their first meeting went rather smoothly, which caused Robb to believe that he might actually be able to get along with his new band mates and that he could actually replace the chemistry he'd had with his former band mates. Fool.

Of course, Jack and Davis seemed nice enough at first. They were professional and polite, albeit a bit dull. (All that really mattered to Robb, though, was that they had the talent that The New needed in order to survive.) However, once Robb’s hand healed, the true colors of his new band mates began to bleed through their masks.

________________________________***

Once they had settled into their new home—a tiny apartment just a few miles outside of Hollywood—Minty and Dré set about looking for new jobs. At one point it occurred to them to get “regular” jobs. For a while Minty worked as a “robotic maintenance worker” which pretty much meant he polished robots and tightened their loose screws. When that didn’t work out, he tried working as a cook in an American cuisine restaurant. He quit within two days when he found a family of mice in the refrigerator. In the meantime Dré got a job as a gardener for an upper-class family. One day he used two hoes as drumsticks on a priceless statue. The statue wasn’t damaged but one of the hoes flew out of his hand and broke a stained glass window. He was promptly fired.

After weeks of failure and frustration, Minty and Dré realized they had one last option that they weren’t entirely happy about.

“Face it, Danny: music is all we know how to do,” Dré said solemnly as the two of them sat in their kitchen/living room one gray winter’s day.

“I know,” his friend sighed. “But I don’t want to be stuck in another tribute band; it’d be like starting all over again. We were actually going somewhere with…well, you know.”

“I don’t think we really have a choice. If we’re going to support ourselves we need to get in a band—and soon.”

The pair discussed the topic seriously for nearly an hour before arriving at a decision: they would join the local Queen tribute band. Due to a recent tragedy involving a bullet train, the only surviving member—the lead vocalist whose name was Rudy—was in need of a bassist, a drummer, and a guitarist. The try-outs were to be held next week on the 27th and Dré and Minty agreed that this was their best shot at survival.

After a dismal Christmas, the only thing Minty and Dré had to look forward to was the audition. It was hosted in a studio just a few blocks away from their apartment complex. When they arrived at nine o’clock that morning, they found that roughly 200 people were already lined up and anxiously awaiting their chance to impress the highly critical front man.

“I can’t believe this line,” Dré huffed. He tucked his bare hands into his coat pockets to protect them from the nipping cold. “I thought we were early; the thing doesn’t start until noon.”

A man who stood before them turned around. “You know, I heard some people spent their Christmas here. I would have, too, if I could actually stand the cold.”

Dré and Minty glanced at each other briefly. They were each surprised at the uncommon friendliness of this sandy-haired stranger. His hazel eyes glittered in the weak December sun which was slowly breaking through the clouds. “So, you guys from around here?”

“Um, yeah, we’re just—five or s-six blocks away,” Minty stammered in the cold. “You?”

“Nope, I was born and raised in Arizona. I flew out here when I heard there was a guitarist position available for this tribute band," he said cheerily.

Dré raised his eyebrows. “No way, we grew up in Arizona! I’m sorry, I don’t think we got your name?”

“Wes—it’s Wes,” he smiled as he extended a gloved hand. “You know, you guys look pretty familiar. What part of Arizona are you from?”

“Scottsdale,” Minty chimed in.

“Oh…that must not be it then—I live about two hours away from there. Wait, are you—are you guys from The New?” Wes’ face brightened expectantly.

Dré subconsciously grimaced. “Yeah, we are. Well we were anyway. I guess you heard all about that.”

“Yeah, yeah, that was too bad,” Wes said sympathetically. “So it looks like we could be band mates, eh?” he changed the topic as he realized he was treading sensitive ground.

Little did they all know at that moment that that was exactly what was destined to happen. After hours of auditioning, Rudy was on the brink of giving up. But once he’d heard Wes, Dré, and Minty (separately, of course), he knew that he’d finally found what he was looking for. Soon enough, Queen tribute band #40—and Minty and Dré—was back on its feet. For the next year they toured tirelessly and for the next year, the bond between Wes, Minty, and Dré steadily strengthened. The ex-members of The New had made the best of the separation, but the same couldn’t be said for Robb…