Drunk in Paris

“No you can’t hold it like that!”
I giggled as I inelegantly sat with a shiny black guitar across my lap quite awkwardly.
“I suppose I’m not wearing the correct outfit.”
Billie’s eyebrow rose as he glanced down to my lap, “I wouldn’t say that.”
I frowned and laughed as I piled the layers of petticoats from my dress securely over my thighs.
“You absolute perv!” I chuckled carefully handing him back the guitar, “I guess my nails would have let me down anyway” I sighed as if I was thoroughly disappointed that I couldn’t have my first guitar lesson in Billie’s basement.
We were currently at the last destination of the tour of the amazing Armstrong house. Billie gestured for me to follow him back up the basement steps and I turned to take one last look at the messy room that contained various instruments, floating on what seemed like, a sea of wires and beer bottles.
“Fancy a drink?” he asked and I nodded following him into the kitchen were I jumped as a small black haired boy stared up at me from his stool around the kitchen island.
I smiled warily at him as I sat down opposite his confused gaze, Billie handed me a soda from the fridge.
“Jake this is Ava. Remember I said she was coming to visit me.”
The boy just looked at me like I was a bearded Aunt about to kiss him.
“Say hi Jake.” Billie frowned, sitting down next to his son.
“…hey.” The small boy almost whispered, looking back down at the video console in his hands.
Billie shrugged at my helpless stare and I suddenly felt completely unwanted. I was out of my depth here; I knew what this boy must be thinking. I was either trying to take his father away from him or taking a female place that could not be filled. Maybe the kid could smell that I wasn’t all I seemed.
Billie thankfully sensed my distressing thoughts shot a small smile across at me.
“Have a good day at school then Jake?”
The boy simply nodded at his father’s question.
“I got homework to do, I better go and do it.” He whispered skunking off out of the kitchen, eyes still glued to the bleeping game in his hands.
“Sorry about that” Billie smiled sipping from his soda.
“Its okay.” I smiled back, tapping my nails across the aluminium of the can.
“I guess its weird having your dad bring home some random woman to stay.” I sighed.
Billie shrugged, “You’re not a random woman and…” he paused, looking down at the black marble underneath us, I hesitated to fill the gap of silence, he inhaled slowly, looking like he seriously regretted beginning the sentence.
“…well…it’s been a while” he smiled sadly, his eyes glossing over somewhat, staring at the emptiness behind me.
I instinctively reached forward and touched his hand gently, he smirked to himself and started to chuckle.
“What?” I asked uneasily.
“I nearly broke out into a Stained song there.”
I raised my eyebrow, clearly not getting the joke.
Billie reflected my motion, “No?”
“No, I don’t get it.”
Billie chuckled, “Didn’t think you would.”

His phone started ringing suddenly and we both jumped. As he answered it I took time to glance around the kitchen, the surfaces were pristine and polished, everything was neat and in it’s place. I assumed that he either had a cleaner or did a severe tidy up for my arrival. A warm fuzzy feeling escalated in my stomach, I turned to look at him, pacing in his black shoes across the shiny floor. He stopped and looked back at me, grinning as his eyes met my own, a familiar shiver crept through me and I pulled a hand through my curled hair. Turning to the door and jumping at the boy standing there.

It was eerie, it was horror movie eerie as he stood there, bright green eyes piercing me with a mixture of confusion and anger. Black hair messily decorating his face, he was a miniature Billie Joe, but he was looking at me with something close to contempt and it made me freeze, this was obviously Joey.
Billie shoved his cell into his back pocket and turned to his son.
“Hey Joe man, this is Ava. Remember I said she was coming to visit?”
The boy refused to look at his father; he took in my every feature and ultimately drew conclusions behind those bitter eyes.
I smiled shyly at him, “Hello, you must be Joey.”
He didn’t move I glanced at Billie Joe who was staring at his son, visibly on edge.
I shifted uncomfortably under his stare until he finally opened his mouth.
“You’re English.”
It was a statement, but I nodded anyway. His eyes darted to my black heels and travelled upwards to meet my own brown irises.
I heard Billie walking closer to me, slightly more at ease that he was nearer.
“Where are you sleeping?” The teenager asked, showing he was indeed beyond his years and rather to the point and abrupt.
“Joe…” Billie began sternly, but I cut him off.
“In the guest bedroom.” I croaked, feeling foolish that I was terrified into shock by this 13year old.
His eyes shifted to his father for a second before they returned to me,
“Joe, do you think that’s an appropriate question? What happened to hello, nice to meet you, where are you from? Did you have a good flight?”
I tensed under Billie’s stern voice, he was different in the presence of his kids, he was sort of more mature, older even. Something I quite liked.
The teenager didn’t flinch under his father’s tone; instead he just blinked at me,
“I thought that was a more appropriate question.” He smirked turning on his heels and darting from sight.
“JOESPH!” Billie yelled making me jump.
I sighed; I had never been in this position in my life before.
“Billie…maybe I should just stay at a hotel, I don’t mind…”
“No.” The singer snapped turning to me, “It’s my fuckin house, you’re staying…”
I smiled at him but felt very perturbed, I guess I would be sleeping with one eye open tonight in order to prevent myself being smothered by a pillow.

“Bonjour Ava!”
“Hello Tre!” I giggled as the drummer enveloped me in a tight embrace. He had come over for dinner at Billie’s house, Mike was supposed to come also but he was visiting his daughter, Estelle apparently. Tre chuckled and whispered in my ear,
“I knew we’d see you again.”
I shook my head in amusement as Billie passed his drummer a beer.
“So when’s grubbin time? I got my special eatin pants on.” Tre slurped through his Corona.
“It’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes.” Billie sighed, he had wanted to cook the lasagne himself but I had to step in at the last minute otherwise we would all be suffering from a severe bout of food poisoning right now. Apparently cooking was not his forte.

“Where’s the little dudes?” Tre asked as me and Billie shared a nervous glance.
“I don’t think they warmed to me.” I sighed.
Tre chuckled, “ah well what do you expect Frenchie.”
“Frenchie?” I giggled, “Tre I’m not French.”
“We met you in Paris; you’re French in my eyes baby.”
I chuckled at him, as Billie rolled his eyes as he waltzed back into the kitchen.
“My pain in the ass sons have refused to eat with us, so naturally they aren’t eating at all.”
“How thoughtful of you Bill.” Tre cackled, “It only coz they know that you’re a shit chef, seriously Ava, we’ll be ringing Dominos after five minutes.”
“Shut your mouth I’m better than you.” Billie frowned smacking his friend in the arm.
“Nah, my daughter…” Tre began, ignoring Billie’s slap, “…Ramona throws strops like these but as soon as she smells the food she’s down here grovelling like a bitch.”
I choked on my wine, Tre chuckling at my reaction as he helpfully smacked my back.
“T….thanks.” I stuttered through a tense throat. I felt like I shouldn’t be here, I didn’t want to cause fights between Billie and his sons. I looked up from my thoughts to see Tre watching me with interest. He seemed to read my mind,
“Don’t worry about it Ava, they’ll come round, the amount of times I have brought a girl home and Frankito or Ramona has kicked up a fuss…” he paused chuckling to himself.
“…don’t worry seriously; they are just making a protest because they can.”
I smiled gratefully at him, secretly wondering whether the boys knew I was hiding something. I lot of scary weird kids can read minds…
I’ve seen to many horror films…maybe it’s just the constant guilt chewing away at my bones.

“I hope, you’re okay, if you need anything just give me a shout.” Billie shifted on his feet in the doorframe of the guest bedroom, clad in a washed out t-shirt and boxer shorts, his eyeliner smudged and hair highly fluffed I couldn’t think of a better sight to see before I fell asleep.
“Thank you Billie.” I smiled shyly, my satin nightdress creasing as I sat down on the edge of the bed. Dinner had been fun with Tre, the two of them telling me the humorous stories of them on their tour. It was way past half one when Tre decided he had better get home and Billie and I resolved to go to bed. The boys had stayed secluded in their rooms, not coming down to dinner and deciding to sleep on empty stomachs. The small twist of guilt had built into this whirlwind, the shame of becoming a wedge between Billie and his sons and the guilt of not telling him everything about me had been playing on my restless mind all night.
I looked up at him as he nervously danced on his feet, darting his eyes from me to the door, obviously considering whether it was too bold of him to come into the room.
I smiled, “Come and sit down.” I whispered patting the duvet underneath me.
He grinned and softly plodded over to the bed, parking himself down next to me.
“Are you okay? I mean I’m sorry about the boys and…” his voice cracked into a hushed whisper.
“Billie I feel awful I mean, they didn’t eat dinner because of ME…”
“Hey, hey, hold on, they didn’t eat because of THEMSELVES not you...” Billie’s whispers became louder and I giggled as I ‘ssshed’ him.
“No…but really, it’s not you, you shouldn’t feel bad…”
I shrugged avoiding his gaze. His hand wandered across to mine, folding his fingers around it tightly and sending a pulsating rush through my whole right arm.
I glanced at the gesture before looking up into those eyes, those fabulously mysterious eyes. Bottle green irises that shone wet with veracity and understanding, eyes that were so dark and deep that the innermost ocean couldn’t contend with their capacity to engulf the onlooker into something so indescribable that it was neither a soul nor the spark of life itself. Just looking into his those perfect radiant emeralds comatosed my entire body, time stopped and for a moment my own dire existence was shown in all its insignificant capacity. I had nothing to offer him until I told him the truth, beauty is Truth, Truth is beauty, according to Keats anyhow. I owed this beauty my horrid ugly and disturbing truth…
I opened my mouth, still falling into the ocean of his stare,
“Billie I…”
“DAD!”
I clamped my mouth shut and the man shot up like a volt of electricity had been shot down his spine.
“Sorry Ava, I’ll go sort this out, remember if you need anything…”
“DAD!”
Billie’s shoulders dropped,
“Night Ava.” He smiled, bending down and pressing his lips against my cheek quickly. I jumped at the contact, pressing my fingers against the skin that those perfect lips had been attached to. I watched him walk out the door, my chest heaving, was that interruption a sign? Would he be happier not knowing?
I curled up into the soft mattress, burying my face into the pillow, how can just looking into those eyes make me melt into an irrational puddle?
If that wasn’t a sign of complete and utter obsession I didn’t know what was.

Baudelaire knew the effect of powerful eyes like those of Billie’s
I have, these docile lovers to subject,
Mirrors that glorify all they reflect —
These eyes, great eyes, eternal in their blaze!
Billie’s eyes definitely had the power to reduce my whole self into an irreconcilable state of vulnerability and by god that was dangerous.