Yoko

The girl giggled softly.

"I'm sorry, I ruined your concentration entirely."
"Nah...I wasn't really concentrating on anything in particular." Jason told her, smiling.

There was a short pause, where they both studied each other. Then Jason extended a hand to her.

"I'm Jason."
"Chiyo." She replied, taking his hand.

Her skin was so soft, and he knew that his calluses must be scratching roughly against the beautiful, pale skin. He winced ever so slightly.

"I'm not a china doll...just a pianist. We're famed for our hands." She said, before he had a chance to say anything.
"I'm a guitarist." Jason told her. She laughed.
"Somehow, I noticed."

Jason laughed, putting down the guitar. He figured that it was worth about as much as the car he rarely drove.

"If you're a pianist, why are you in a store that caters to guitarists and bassists?"

She shrugged.

"I wander in here from time to time. I like to look around, see if I can find something I'd like."
"You play?"

He adored her smile already.

"I just want to. I love the sound a guitar makes, but I've never found the time to learn."
"Would you like to? We could pick out a guitar right now and I could teach you."
"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to cause you any trouble." She said anxiously.

Jason grinned at her, all his former plans suddenly vanishing.

"Sunshine, I think you've found your man."

***

They spent the next two hours making a slow circuit of the store, looking carefully at each brand of guitar, and discussing what she would want in the instrument.

They bickered good-naturally over price and quality, laughing all the while. Jason showed off a little when demonstrating, playing some complicated riffs and executing some spiffy chord-work.

And they talked.

Chiyo told him that she was Japanese, and had been raised in there. Her parents had brought her to America four years ago, when she was seventeen. They'd wanted to give her all the opportunities to play her music. She'd enrolled in Berkeley, but decided to take a year off to record a demo. Which lead to why she was in California.

Jason was thrilled to find that she was signed to the same record label as Green Day, even recording in the same studio.

She laughed.

"I was there a few days ago and I ran into one of your bandmates. Tre Cool...he came barging into the recording room and scared me senseless."

Jason frowned at the thought of his renegade bandmate. She seemed to sense his hostility before he'd even completed his thought.

"You're angry with him." She said quietly, reached out to gently pluck a string on a Fender bass on the wall.

He sighed.

"I'm not angry...just...I don't know. Tre's been being a real asshole, pardon my language."

She just smiled, which he took as an invitation to continue his story, and use all the curse words he liked.

"He got this new girlfriend and he's just been blowing off everything. All the music, the promotions. Even preparations for the tour, he just doesn't fucking care, the dick. He won't talk to Billie, or Mike, or Adrienne...he'll barely talk to me, and that's only if I catch him off-guard, or away from her..."

His voice trailed off. Chiyo sighed.

"I would be worried, if I were you. My producer used to have a band. Their bassist fell in love. And he just vanished entirely. It was sad, because they had so much talent. But this girl, she just sucked the passion out of him, and he left without a word."

Chiyo sounded sad, and Jason wondered if the boy she was talking about had meant more to her than she'd said.

"Tre, he wouldn't...I mean, he's so dedicated to the band."
"But see...you said it yourself. He's pulling away. And it's only a matter of time until he vanishes too."

They were silent for a moment longer, than Jason shrugged.

"Let's stop talking about my idiot of a friend. Let's buy this guitar an then go get something to eat."

Chiyo shook her head.

"I've got no money at all. I wasn't even expecting to find a guitar today."

Jason gave her a dashing wink.

"See, that's one of the perks to playing with a band like Green Day. I've got money to spare."

He whipped out his wallet. Chiyo sighed.

"I'll only let you buy that if you promise to let me pay you back. It might take a little while, but I will."
"Oh, I'm sure we can figure out other ways for you to make it up to me...like letting me take you to lunch."

Chiyo laughed and shook her head.

"You're impossible, Mr. White. But perfectly charming. I'd be honored to have lunch with you."

***

"TRE. Open the goddamned door before I kick it down!" Billie hollered, pounding on the hotel door.

Mike looked mildly alarmed.

"Billie, we'll wind up paying for that, you know."
"I don't give a fuck. I can't believe he skipped out on the Rolling Stones cover, that was important shit."
"Breaking the door won't fix anything."
"But it will make me feel better." Billie snarled.

He turned to kick the door again, but it opened.

"Tre's out." Jorah said icily.
"Well, when the fuck is he going to be back?" Billie snapped. Jorah raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him.
"He didn't say."

Mike sighed, and put a hand on Billie's shoulder.

"Would you mind if I came in and waited for him? It's important that I talk to him." Mike said calmly. Jorah nodded.
"You can come in." She said, with a pointed look at Billie.

Mike turned to the singer.

"I'll talk to him. You go home, and I'll call if I need a ride."

Billie looked as though he'd like nothing better than to force his way into the apartment and lurk in Tre's closet, waiting to clobber the drummer with a pair of stiletto heels when he returned. But Billie sighed, wished the bassist luck, and took the elevator down.

***

Jorah's apartment was immaculate. White walls with some framed abstracts, elegant white furniture, neatly stacked magazines on the coffee table.

Mike felt freakishly tall and out of place. And if he felt that way, then how did Tre survive in this place?

"Umm..." Mike said awkwardly, searching for something to say.
"Would you like something to drink?" She asked him graciously.

Mike noticed that she was wearing a pair of Tre's jeans, and that she didn't have a bra on underneath that white beater. He swallowed hard and forced his eyes away.

"Sure."
"What would you like?" She motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen. "I've got some beer, wine..."
"Anything...without alcohol?" Mike asked carefully, not wanted to impair his judgement.

Besides. Drunk and alone with a beautiful girl. That's how ninety-nine percent of his problems had started.

"Sure...but I'd love your opinion on this bottle." She held up a bottle of a clear liquid that Mike immediately recognized as vodka.
"I don't drink before six." He hedged.
"Awww. Just one glass, love." She begged, sticking her lip out prettily.

Mike sighed. He really would have liked a drink, and a cigarette right about now. And against his better judgement, he accepted both.

***

"So..." Mike slurred. "What are you intentions with my drummer?"

An hour and too many glasses of vodka later, Mike could barely think straight. How one glass had evolved into three quarters of the bottle, he would never know. And a very sober Jorah laughed at him from across the room.

She stood up and sat down gently next to Mike. Sat down too close. He could feel the warmth of her legs through his jeans.

"Well, Mike. I'm going to take him for all he's worth, of course."

Something in the context of her sentence didn't sound right. He knew it was important, but he was far too drunk to make sense of it. Besides, he was enjoying the touch of her hand on his chest far too much to care.

"You know...I've always admired you." She said, her voice husky.
"Oh?"
"You're like, the soul of the band. Tre's erratic, and Billie's handsome, but you..."

She put her lips close to his ear.

"You're a real man."

And then she began kissing his neck, touching him in ways that elicited very definite reactions from the startled bassist.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Mike said, jumping up and promptly falling down. The carpet was soft.

"You're my best friend's girlfriend! You can't touch me like that! It has consequences!" He put his hands over his face.

Jorah chuckled, a low, sexy noise deep in her throat. She straddled him, sliding her hands up, under his black beater.

"Now see....what Tre doesn't know, can't hurt him."

All of a sudden, she started making a lot of sense.

And when she lead him into the bedroom, Mike couldn't think of a good reason to stay away.

***

So this is why Tre's blowing off the band.

Mike pushed her off.

"I need a shower." He muttered.

A quick glance at the clock told him that it was 3:30, and that Tre should be getting back soon. And Mike would rather not see him right after fucking his girlfriend.

Jorah laughed.

"You're so tense. You'd think that a person would lighten up after having great sex."
"Pfft. Not only are you my best friend's girlfriend, he'll be coming back soon. What the hell am I going to say to him?!"

Mike was starting to panic slightly. Jorah's lips curled into a sly smile.

"First, Tre's not coming back soon. He won't be back until the end of the week. His grandma died last night. Two, you don't have to say anything to him."

Mike, still reeling from the news about Tre's grandmother, paused and looked at her.

"You don't intend to tell him what you did?"
"Of course not. No reason to."

Then she stood up, putting her arms around Mike's shoulders, pressing her naked body close to his. And Mike felt himself start to react to her, in spite of everything.

"Traitor." He whispered to his penis.

Jorah laughed again, kissing his collarbone and raising goosebumps on his skin.

"Besides, I'm nowhere near done with you." She took his hand and pulled him towards the bathroom. "Let's take that shower you wanted."

***

Mike walked home. Sure, it was a mile or two, or four. But he couldn't' face Billie right now.

He couldn't even face himself.

She was everything he hated. A gold digger, a liar, a complete fake. But he loved it when she touched him, as much as she repulsed him. He hated himself for what had happened.

"Well, what the fuck did you expect, getting trashed at her goddamn apartment?" He asked himself, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

And Tre. Oh man, Tre.

"He's never going to forgive me if he finds out."

If.

Mike contemplated that idea for a fraction of a second, then shook his head.

"No. I'm telling him. I'm going to call him right now, and tell him everything."

And just what are you planning on telling him? You fucked his girlfriend three times today, in various positions and places? That you made her scream?

"Yes." Mike frowned, thinking about how terrible that sounded.

Because he'll love that. In fact, he'll come running back to the band with a huge smile after he hears that.

And then it hit him. If Tre ever found out about what Mike was doing, he'd be furious. He'd probably push the band farther away, maybe even leave for good.

Mike realized how effectively Jorah had trapped him, and cursed.

"That fucking..."

Now he was almost addicted to her, wanted to screw her again and again. And as many times as he told himself that he wouldn't, he knew that he would find himself at that apartment again tomorrow, or maybe even later today. It was still early....

"I'm a fucking asshole." Mike told himself.

But when he thought about Jorah's mouth on his....well, he just didn't care.