All By Myself (COMPLETED)

[suicideXmakeover]

Okay, I don't really know how well this story's gonna turn out. I only have two parts written so far, so I'm going to post them and you'll have to be patient about the rest.


PART ONE

I hate working here.

I climbed out of my car in front of Sunrise Recording Studios in Oakland. I glared at the massive building with a huge hatred for it already. And it was only my third day of working there.
The first two days had both been pretty similar. They had assigned me to help supervise a trio of Avril Lavigne wanna-be's in their quest to produce a halfway decent CD. Just listening to them perform was giving me a splitting headache, plus they whined at me because I wouldn't give them constructive criticism. That wasn't my job. My job was to make sure that the producers they had hired didn't break any of the equipment in an attempt to hide the sheer lack of talent these girls had. It was a very simple job, but the pay was incredible, especially considering the amount of work it required. That was the only reason why I was here.
I used to work at the Amplified Recording Studio on the other side of town. Back there, the pay was worse, and I got to work more, but I loved it. It was a studio exclusively for punk bands, and had a much more laid back atmosphere. Amplified had recently closed, and my boss, Andy, who was an amazing guy, got a job transfer to Sunrise. He had more or less pleaded for a job for me, since he claimed that I wasn't the kind of person who belonged in an office. This was the best job he could get for me. I missed working at Amplified and doing all sorts of odd jobs, like tuning the instruments and helping in production or playing instruments in rehearsals if a band's guitarist didn't show up or something.
I pushed open the heavy glass doors and stepped into the lobby. It smelled like too much air freshener and lots of leather. I looked at Rebecca, who was the secretary. She seemed to be the only one working at this place that had any sense, and even she didn't have much of it. She sat behind her desk, filing her nails. She had a beach bag and several beach towels piled up behind her. She always headed straight to the beach during lunch, something I had discovered after only two days. "Hey, Vicky," she mumbled to me as I headed down the hallway to the room of despair, also known as studio 28.
"Hey," I mumbled, adjusting my purse strap and waving quickly. If I didn't hurry, I would be late. And I had gotten fired from too many jobs just because I was late. As much as I couldn't stand this job, I didn't want that to happen. I got into the elevator and whistled to myself as I headed up to the second floor.
It wasn't two seconds after I got out of the elevator that the door of the rehearsal room opened and a man in his early thirties stumbled out. His blondish-brownish hair was sticking up all over the place. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and was drenched in sweat from head to toe. He wore a pair or black shorts and some Converses. I recognized him immediately. But seeing him here wasn't what shocked me. What shocked me was that he had a large gash across his forehead that was bleeding profusely.

[suicideXmakeover]

PART TWO

"Oh my God," I almost screamed, rushing to the side of Tre Cool and, in the process, dropping my purse and it's contents all over the floor. "What the hell happened to you?"
He reached up and pressed his hand to the gash. "Cymbal accident," he mumbled.
"Is anybody else in there?" I asked, leaning over to look through the door.
"Nope," he said. "Just me."
"This looks really bad," I sighed, pulling his hand away from his wound. "I'm going to take you to the hospital."
"I'm fine," he murmured, pulling away slightly at the mention of a hospital.
"No, you're not. I'm taking you a hospital." I grabbed his arm, ignoring the fact that his hand was covered in blood from the wound, and pulled him into the elevator. The ride down from the second floor to the first floor never seemed longer. I was actually kind of afraid for Tre's life. He was bleeding like crazy.
I tugged him out of the elevator. Rebecca looked shocked at the sight of the bleeding drummer. "Holy-"
"Yeah," I interrupted. "Could I use one of your towels?"
"Are you gonna get it all bloody?" she asked. At that second, every once of respect I had ever had for her flew out the window.
"Probably," I groaned. "Can I just use one? It's not like you don't have eighty right there."
"Fine. Just get the blood out when you're done," she said, handing me a bright yellow towel.
"I'll buy you a new towel or something," I said. "I'm taking him to the hospital, so if anybody asks, that's where we are."
Rebecca nodded, but I doubted she knew who he was, so if anyone asked for a Tre Cool, she'd probably just shrug. I didn't have time to explain the history of Green Day to her, so I just handed the towel to Tre and brought him to my car.
"What's your name?" he asked as he sat down.
"Vicky," I said. "Put your seatbelt on." He blinked at me for a second before pulling the seatbelt over his sweaty, shirtless chest. I couldn"t help but find myself watching and longing to be that seatbelt. But I finally snapped out of it and pulled out of my parking spot.
"I'm gonna get blood all over your car," he said, sounding kind of apologetic.
"Don't worry about it. There'll be other cars, but only one Tre Cool."
He smiled a little bit. I felt happy that I could make him smile. After all, I wouldn't be too happy if I were in his position.

[Kill]

Oh! Write more; this is so good!

[suicideXmakeover]

PART THREE

We sat in silence for a few moments before I reached over and turned on the radio. I looked at Tre. He was bleeding so furiously that the yellow towel was turning orange-ish. I flinched a little. I wasn't exactly squeamish, but blood wasn't exactly a fascination of mine. "What is this?" I mumbled in reference to the song the played on the radio. I hit the "CD" button and sat back as the player read the CD.
It was about half a second later that the sounds of "Nice Guys Finish Last" filled my car. I flinched a little and looked at Tre, who was smirking just a bit. "Sorry, you probably get sick of listening to that," I said, reaching over to change the CD.
"No, don't worry about it." He nodded at me, and I continued driving. I could hear him humming the song faintly in the background during the verse, but he loudly exploded into, "NICE GUYS FINISH LAST! WHEN YOU ARE THE OUTCAST! DON'T PAT YOURSELF ON THE BACK, YOU MIGHT BREAK YOUR SPI-INE!"
"Are you always like this, or should I blame it on the head injury?" I laughed. He shrugged and smiled, then continued humming. The chorus neared. "Shall I brace myself?" I asked.
His smile extended practically across his face before he started screaming, "NICE GUYS FINISH LAST!" This time it was even louder than before. I laughed, although in retrospect, it doesn't seem all that funny. But his randomness, combined with his cuteness, just made it so funny.
"So you don't wear eyeliner when you're not making a public appearance?" I asked. I had been wondering about the absence of makeup since I had first caught a glimpse.
"Normally, when I'm all sweaty and not wearing a shirt, I make it a big ordeal to have my eyeliner impeccable. You just caught me on a bad day," he joked. I smirked at him.
"Hitchin' a Ride," he said as the violin intro pumped out of the speakers.
"Hooray for Tre. You can identify your own songs."
"Shut up," he laughed.
"Don't tell me to shut up. I can pull over and have you hitchhike your ass all the way to the hospital," I giggled.
"You're funny." He said it almost as if it was hard to believe.
"Thanks. So are you," I sighed, leaning back in my seat as we approached a red light.
"I'm not funny," he said. "I'm just completely insane."
"I believe that," I said.
It wasn't long after that when we approached the hospital. I tugged him into the emergency room. He still seemed a little hesitant about the whole hospital thing, but I told him he had no options now. A nurse saw the enormous cut across his skull and had him sit in a wheelchair. "I can walk," he pleaded, but she shook her head and told him to stay seated.
After taking him back through some big white doors, the nurse returned and looked at him. "Are you his wife?" she asked.
"No," I snorted. "I just met him about 15 minutes ago."
"Oh," she said. "So I take it you two aren't related in any way."
"Nope," I shook my head.
"Well, will you still be willing to take the care instructions and make sure that someone who is related to him gets them?"
"Sure," I nodded. "Anything for Tre."
The nurse gave me a rather skeptical look, then nodded. She told me I could sit down and wait for the doctor to come out and get me.

[suicideXmakeover]

PART FOUR

Instead of sitting like I had been asked to, I ducked into the bathroom and looked at my reflection. I looked like hell. My face was extremely pale, and I had a smudge of Tre's blood on my chin. I glanced at my hands and, sure enough, I had some of Tre's blood on my hands. I had probably wiped my face or something. My curly bluish-black hair was falling out of the ponytail I had tied it into earlier. I washed my hands and face before even bothering to fix it. I wore an old Beatles T-shirt that used to belong to my mom before she gained all that weight and a pair of jeans. I didn't look very professional, but when you work at a recording studio doing nothing but sitting on your ass all day, comfort is what you go for. I reached for my purse to fix my makeup, but realized that I had left my purse, and all it's contents, spilled across the floor in front of the elevator. I walked out of the bathroom and to the front counter. "Do you have a phone?" I asked the receptionist.
"This is a hospital. Of course we have a phone," she said. "Would you like to use it?"
"Yes, please," I smiled, trying hard not to complain about her sarcastic remark. You'd think people working in a hospital would be a little nicer or something.
She moved the corded phone across the counter. I lifted the receiver to my ear and dialed.
"Hello?" It was Rebecca.
"Rebecca! Hey, it's Vicky. I'm down here at the hospital with Tre, and before I left, I spilled all my crap all over the place up of the second floor. I was wondering if you could get it for me. I mean, it's my cell phone, my wallet and other stuff that's really important."
"Um, okay. By the way, there was some guy here asking about that guy you took to the hospital. He freaked out and he's coming to where ever you guys are," she said.
"Some guy? What was his name?"
"Billie," she said.
"Shit," I whispered. "Billie Joe Armstrong?"
"I don't know. He just said Billie."
"Did he have black hair?" I asked.
"Yeah. I think so," she said.
"You think? Um, how tall was he?" I asked, getting rather annoying with her ignorance.
"I don't know. I didn?t really pay attention."
"Damn it," I mumbled. "Okay, was he wearing eyeliner?"
"Yeah, he was," Rebecca said it as though she had just experienced some sort of epiphany.
"Holy hell," I murmured. "I have to go. Can you just get my stuff for me?"
"Sure," she said, then hung up.
"Nobody ever says goodbye anymore," I said to the receptionist as I handed her the phone. She just stared at me kind of funny for a moment, then returned to her paperwork or whatever.
I sat down and waited patiently, kind of watching the door for Billie. Wow, what a day it had been, and it wasn't even noon yet. By the time I went home, I would've met two thirds of my favorite band of all time. I thought of all the people who would kill to be in my shoes.
At that moment, two nuns walked in through the emergency room. They nodded at the receptionist, then headed straight in through the same doors Tre had gone through. I imagined the nuns going to see Tre. I could imagine the entire scenario. They would enter the room, and leave shortly thereafter because of Tre's fowl language or random dirty jokes. But I knew they weren't there to see him.
Billie Joe rushed into the emergency room, looking rather concerned. I found it kind of cute that the bandmates seemed to care this much about each other. That was probably what had kept them together for 15 years. I stood and approached him. "Billie?" I started.
"Um, I don't have time for autographs or anything now," he said, automatically assuming that I was a teenie that planned on attacking him or something. That probably happened to him a lot, so I couldn't really blame him for assuming so much. He pushed past me and approached the receptionist.
"I'm a friend of Tre Cool or Frank Wright or whatever he's in this hospital as. He's here with head trauma because of a cymbal accident," Billie explained to the woman.
"No one's allowed to see him, yet," the woman said, sounding annoyed. "You can go wait with the girl who brought him in." She pointed over and me. Billie turned and blinked, then walked over to me.
"You didn't want an autograph, did you?" he asked, running his hands through his hair.
"Nope," I shook my head. "I just wanted to tell you that Tre seemed fine, except for the excessive bleeding, the last time I saw him."
"Oh," he nodded. "I'm Billie. And you are...?"
"I'm Vicky," I said, shaking his hand. I was all too aware of my lack of makeup. I only hoped he didn't notice.
"Vicky. Nice to meet you. How do you know Tre?" He seemed confused.
"I don't. I just got out of the elevator and saw him bleeding, and I figured the hospital could do a lot more than I could," I laughed, horrifically nervous that I would make a jackass out of myself in front of Billie. For some reason, I hadn't been this nervous around Tre. Maybe because Tre's life was in danger. Well, for whatever reason, I was practically shaking like a leaf there in front of Billie.
"Wow. It's good to know there are still some good people out there," Billie laughed. I nodded, then sat down. Billie sat next to me, and we waited.

[suicideXmakeover]

PART FIVE (I think)

"God, how long is this going to take?" I finally asked. We had been sitting there, in the waiting room area of the emergency room, for about two hours. Billie had been sleeping on and off since we had sat down. He would drift into a snooze, start snoring, then abruptly wake himself up, look around, then fall back asleep.
"Huh?" he murmured, slowly waking himself.
"Tre's been back there for a couple hours. At least."
Almost as if I had spoken the magic words, a doctor stepped out through the big doors and walked over to me. "Are you Vicky?" he asked. I nodded. He sat next to me. "Alright, now, we had to give Mr. Wright some stitches, and they're pretty good sized, so they're going to have to stay in for a while. Now don't try to take them out yourself. Bring him back in about six weeks to have them removed." The doctor continued with the instructions, that included such things as no driving for three weeks and how to change the gauze and bandages. "And no alchohal," the doctor said. At this, Billie laughed so hard he practically choked on his own spit. "At least not for a few weeks," the doctor said. I nodded, acting like I would be watching Tre all the time to make sure he didn't do all the things he wasn't supposed to.
The doctor returned through the doors to get Tre. "Tre can't drink," Billie snorted. "This should be fun to watch." I nodded, although I felt kind of bad that one of his favorite activities was being banned from his life.
Tre stumbled out from behind the doors a few minutes later. His head was bandaged and he looked very confused. The nurse walked behind him and approached us, only to tell us he was pretty doped up on painkillers. "I'm not doped up on anything," he slurred. "Hey, Billie. What cha doin' here?"
"I came to make sure you were okay," Billie said. "Mike's back at the studio waiting for us so we can practice."
"I hate to say this," I sighed, "but I don't think he's okay enough to practice."
"Look, Tre knows all about playing the drums while he's stoned," Billie assured me. "He should be fine."
As Billie said this, Tre fell over and knocked a trash can over, loudly, and attempted to jump up, only to fall back over and almost hit his head. "Smooth," I said, helping Tre to his feet. "Is your head okay?" I asked, looking at the bandage. The blood was already soaking through.
"Yeah," he nodded, then fell forward a little bit, almost onto my shoulder.
"You sure?" I asked, uncertain of how well Mr. Cool was.
"Okay, maybe you're right," Billie sighed. "Do you think he'll be okay by tomorrow?"
"I don't know. I'm not a doctor," I snapped.
"Shit, how's he gonna get home?" Billie asked. "I mean, even though he can't practice, Mike and I have to, so I can't drive him home."
"I'll do it," I sighed, trying to sound agitated, but driving Tre home wouldn't bother me in the slightest.
"Are you sure?" Billie asked, blinking at me.
"Yeah, it's fine," I nodded. "No problem."
Billie just nodded, said bye to Tre, then retreated to his car in the parking lot. "Where's Billie goin?" Tre asked.
"Home," I sighed. "And that's where you're going, too. Where do you live, anyway?"
"Um," Tre thought for a minute, then started giving me directions.

[Kill]

Write more, now! This is really frickin' good! ;D

[suicideXmakeover]

PART SIX OR SOMETHING

“Here we are,” I announced, climbing out of my car and heading to the passenger side to help Tre get out of the car.
“I think I’m okay now,” he said. The high of the painkillers seemed to be wearing off a bit, so he could walk a lot more stably.
“That’s good,” I said, still walking next to him up to the door. “Is anybody else here?” I asked.
“Probably not.”<br> “Do you live by yourself?” I questioned, looking at the rather large house.
“Nah,” he sighed. “Claudia lives here.”<br> “Your ex-wife lives with you?!” I couldn’t believe it.
“Yeah, just for Frankito, though, you know? She didn’t want to have him grow up without a daddy. But Claudia’s out visiting her cousin or something for a couple weeks and Frankito’s with her. So it’s just me,” Tre said, giving the house the once over, as if he had never seen it before.
“You want me to hang out with you for a while and make sure you don’t drink or do anything you’re not supposed to?” I asked. He smiled and nodded, so I followed him into the house, carrying the large box of gauze given to me by the nurse.
His house was surprisingly clean for the home of Tre Cool. I expected for there to be all sorts of random junk all over the place, but it was actually pretty presentable. A lot cleaner than my apartment. He gestured toward the couch. “Make yourself at home,” he said.
I sat down as he headed into the kitchen. I heard the refrigerator open and heard the clinking of some bottles. “No drinking,” I called.
“Damn it!” he practically screamed. “Fine, will you be okay with drinking a coke?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I called. “I don’t drink anyway.”<br> “You don’t drink?” he asked as he carried two coke cans out into the living room, where I sat.
“Nope,” I shook my head. “Unlike some people, I actually care about my liver.”<br> Tre snorted, then sat down next to me. “This not-drinking-thing is going to be hard,” he mumbled as he took a swig of coke. I just smiled at him, cracking open my soda and taking a drink. I drank the coke too fast and was quickly overwhelmed with that fizzy bubble feeling in my nose.
“Ow,” I whispered, clutching my nose. Tre just laughed at my pain. I shot him a dirty look that instantly made him shut up.
“You want to stay here for dinner?” he asked after a few moments of silence.
“Um, sure. Sounds good. What’s on the menu?” I asked as I leaned back on his couch. I really was making myself at home.
“Pizza.”<br> “Yum,” I smiled.
“From, like, three nights ago,” Tre laughed. “Sorry, but when Claudia’s not home, quality food is not exactly the priority for me.”<br> I chuckled. “Well, whatever works. I’m not really a picky eater.”<br> “Okay,” he nodded. “Well, how about…ow,” he suddenly stopped talking and reached up to grab his head.
“Are you okay?” I asked, putting down my coke and scooting closer toward him.
“Yeah, it’s just kind of throbbing,” he winced.
“Ew,” I said. “Maybe you should change the bandage.”<br> He nodded, grabbed the gauze and headed toward a bathroom. I saw the light turn on in the hallway and heard him call a couple seconds later, “Vicky, you should see this. It’s bleeding like a sonuvabitch.”<br> “No, I’m good,” I said, moving around on the couch until I was in a comfortable position.
“Did the doctor say anything about if I felt dizzy or something?” he called.
“No, but maybe you should sit down. I mean, so you don’t fall over and hit your head again. He said you didn’t have a concussion, so you can sleep normally and stuff.”<br> Tre came out of the bathroom, freshly bandaged. “I’m gonna go change,” he said. “Don’t move.”<br> “Wasn’t planning on it. Be careful about your bandage,” I warned as he disappeared up a staircase.
I reached over and grabbed the remote, turning on Tre’s TV and watching the news. It was all the same, blah blah blah Iraq blah blah kidnapping blah blah blah rape, etc. I began channel surfing until I came across some old Bugs Bunny cartoons on Cartoon Network. “Yay, cartoons,” I sighed to myself.
It wasn’t long before Tre appeared in the living room again. He wore a pair of denim shorts, an old Nimrod shirt and no shoes. Even with his head bandaged and bleeding, he was still so cute. “Cartoons!” he exclaimed, sitting down next to me. “If you get hungry, just let me know,” he said quite randomly, since I hadn’t given off any signs of hunger.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “I could go days without eating.”<br> “That’s where you and I differ,” he smiled, the stretched his arms out a bit on the couch, almost slipping his arm around my shoulder. I was blushing like crazy; I could tell it. But I just sat there, trying to avoid looking at him because I knew I would die of ecstasy.

[suicideXmakeover]

PART SEVEN

I had almost fallen asleep on Tre’s couch when I realized there was something warm on my shoulder. I nearly jumped, but then I realized what it was. Tre had fallen asleep on my shoulder. I tried really hard not to start saying, “Awww” really loudly, as that would not only wake him, but would embarrass the hell out him, too. Bugs Bunny had ended, and it was growing dark outside. I just sat there, unsure of what to do.
Romy, my roommate, was probably back at our apartment, wondering where the hell I was. Romy was kind of like a mother. If she didn’t know exactly where you were all the time, she freaked out. It got kind of annoying at times. After all, the reason I had moved out was to escape my mother.
“Tre,” I whispered, hoping to wake him. “Tre, wake up.”<br> He mumbled something, but then just buried his face further into my shoulder. I leaned back, pressing my back into the couch. “Tre,” I repeated his name. This time I wasn’t even watching him. I stared at the ceiling as I said his name. “Tre. Hey, Tre. Wake up. Tre,”<br> My eyes grew heavier and I fell asleep, as I kind of figured I would. I had a dream about Tre. He and I were at an amusement park, on a roller coaster. The coaster was about to start, but Tre was trying to impress me, so he wouldn’t buckle his seatbelt thing. I kept telling him too, but he kept assuring me that he would be fine. I kept telling him that was going to hurt himself, but he told me that everything would be okay. Then the coaster started and Tre fell out and died.
That was the worst dream I had ever had. And I had experienced some terrible nightmares. When I woke up, Tre was sitting on the couch and staring at me. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You were tossing and turning and moaning a lot.” He stopped talking, then smiled. “Unless it was one of those dreams, in which case I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”<br> “No,” I laughed. “My God, what time is it?” I looked around the room. It was light outside, and it hadn’t been when I fell asleep before. Tre looked at his watch.
“Holy shit. It’s 10:40.”<br> “In the morning?!” I screamed, leaping off of the couch. “I was supposed to be at work two hours ago.” I slapped my forehead. “And I didn’t even show up yesterday.”<br> “I have to be at practice, like, right now,” Tre mumbled, rushing to his room to change his clothes.
“Damn it,” I sighed. “I’ve got to go back to my apartment and shower and change and all that.”<br> “I know this is going to sound a little weird, but you can use my shower. And you can borrow some of Claudia’s clothes. She probably wouldn’t mind.”<br> “No, that’s okay,” I nodded. “I’ll just head home now, get dressed and stuff, then come back and pick you up. It’ll give you a chance to shower and everything.”<br> “Okay,” Tre agreed, watching from his doorway as I ran outside.

[suicideXmakeover]

PART EIGHT!

It wasn’t long before I arrived at my apartment. “Where the hell were you last night?” Romy demanded from the kitchen table as I rushed past. “And why aren’t you at work?”<br> “Long story, no time,” I said, sprinting into my room. I peeled off my clothes. I hated that feeling you get when your wear the same clothes longer than normal. It made me feel kind of like a hobo. I crawled into the shower and quickly scrubbed my body and washed my hair. I towel-dried my hair before tying it up again, then brushed my teeth. I glanced through my closet, not really having time to be picky. I decided on an old pair of Dickies, a lime green T-shirt with the Ninja Turtles logo on the front and an old pair of red Converses, that didn’t even match my outfit. I found a spare eyeliner, since the one I normally used was in my bag back at the studio. I threw some on, along with some concealer, then ran toward the front door.
“You will be home tonight, right?” she asked.
“Probably,” I sighed, then left.
When I arrived at Tre’s house, he was leaning against his front door, standing outside of his house. Before I even stopped the car, he was already walking over, obviously understanding the hurry I was in. “Hey,” he smiled before glancing at his bandage in my rearview mirror.
“Don’t touch that,” I snapped as I adjusted it back into place.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “You look nice.”<br> “Bull,” I muttered, leaning over and turning the radio on. This time I ignored the shitty music. I didn’t have time to care. I was already late enough as it was. Tre sat in silence. I had probably given him the impression that I was mad at him, which I wasn’t. I was just pissed off at myself for having fallen asleep at Tre’s house when I knew I wouldn’t automatically wake up in time to get to work.
“Sorry I’m being such a bitch this morning,” I mumbled.
“Don’t worry about it,” Tre sighed, looking out the window at the passing cars. “Sorry I didn’t wake you up earlier. And sorry I feel asleep on your shoulder so you couldn’t leave.”<br> “Eh, it’s okay. I can’t stand this job anyway,” I groaned. “I hate it.”<br> “What exactly is it that you do for a living, Vicky?” he asked.
I told him. I explained every boring detail, emphasizing the lameness of it all. He just laughed. “And how old are you?”<br> “23,” I sighed. “Fresh out of college.”<br> “Really?” he asked. “I would’ve thought you were older.”<br> “Gee, thanks,” I said, already self-conscious of any wrinkles I might have that I didn’t know about.
“I mean, you don’t look older or anything, but you just act…more mature, I guess.”<br> “Thanks, I think,” I said.
“You got a boyfriend?” he asked.
“Eh, kind of,” I said, feeling bad that I had almost forgotten Tim. “His name’s Tim, and we’ve kind of been together on and off for about a year now.”<br> “Oh,” Tre sighed. I secretly kind of hoped he was jealous.
“He probably called my cell phone about 50 times trying to find out where I was last night. And he’ll be none too happy when he finds out I spent the night with a rock star.” I laughed at the thought, then looked at Tre, who was smiling kind of sheepishly.
We rode the rest of the way to the studio in silence, except for the mumbling of the radio, and for some strange reason, I kind of wished I had told Tre that I was single.

[Kill]

Oh, yay! I love it! Write more!!! ;D

[suicideXmakeover]

PART NINE

“Tim called. Four times.” Rebecca handed me my purse. “And so did your mom. She left a message.” She handed me a slip of paper.
“You answered my phone?” I asked, blinking at her, not sure if I should be grateful or not. Tre stood behind me, acting as though this involved him.
“Yeah. I mean, I answer phones for a living. It was kind of a natural reaction. Sorry if you didn’t want me to,” she said, filing at her damn fingernails again.
“Well, thanks, I guess.” I read over the message my mother left, which more or less just told me to call her back. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed her up. Tre gave me this strange look as I chatted with her the entire elevator ride to the second floor.
“Yeah, Mom, I understand. Look, I can’t come visit you this week. How about next week? No, missing work is not an option,” I groaned into the phone.
“Bye,” Tre said, waving before ducking into the rehearsal room.
“Bye,” I said, waving back. “No, Mom, not you. Somebody else.”<br> Finally, lunch rolled around. I headed down the hallway, planning on getting some Doritos out of the vending machine and sitting in my car or something. It was then that Billie walked out of the rehearsal room. “Hey,” he smiled. “Vicky, right?”<br> I nodded. “And your name was?” I joked.
He smirked. “Funny,” he said. “Tre was just talking about you.”<br> “He was?” I asked, very hopeful. What was I getting so worked up about? Tre was 9 years older than me, plus I had a boyfriend.
“Yeah. He seems to like you.” Billie winked and nudged me. “Shame you’re taken.”<br> “Damn shame,” I agreed. Billie just left, then beat me in a subconscious race to the vending machine. I stood behind him, making impatient sighs that just made him take his precious time.
“So, when’s your lunch break?” he asked.
“Right now,” I sighed. “And it ends in an hour.”<br> “Well, what are your plans for your lunch break?” he questioned, leaning back against the vending machine so that I couldn’t get to it.
“I was gonna get some Doritos,” I said, motioning to the vending machine behind him. “And then I was going to go eat them in my car.”<br> “Sounds like fun,” he mumbled sarcastically. “How about you get your Doritos and come listen to us practice?”<br> “Well, I’d like to, but you’re kind of interfering with me getting those Doritos,” I laughed. He finally moved, and as I jammed my dollar through the slot, I added, “But I’d love to hear you guys practice. You’re practically my favorite band.”<br> “Practically?” Billie pressed his hand against his chest, acting offended.
“Okay, you ARE my favorite band,” I smiled. He then led me through the doors to the rehearsal room. The room was a mess. There were all sorts of random instruments that I couldn’t even identify filling the place. Tre was sitting in one of those rotating chairs in the back of the room, spinning around and watching his feet. Mike was messing with one of the guitars, playing some fancy riff. Billie coughed and they both looked up.
“Hey, Vicky,” Tre said, stopping his spinning and standing. He stumbled, quite dizzy from the spinning chair, and walked over to me.
“Vicky, eh?” Mike said, walking over and elbowing Tre in the ribs. “She’s prettier than you described. You made her out to be a real dog.”<br> “Shut up,” Tre said, and he didn’t even sound like he was kidding.
“Just kidding,” Mike laughed. “Tre couldn’t have made you sound any prettier.” At this, Tre turned about 80 different shades of pink. Mike continued, though. “I’m Mike, as you probably know. How are you?”<br> “I’m good,” I said, shaking Mike’s outstretched hand. “And you?”<br> “I’m pretty alright,” Mike said, stepping back. “You guys ready to practice?”<br> “Where’s Jason?” I interjected.
“I don’t know,” Billie mumbled. “He hasn’t been showing up for a while.”<br> “So we are lacking in the area of another guitarist,” Tre sighed.
“I play guitar,” I offered. Mike looked at me with hope glistening in his eyes.
“You wanna play with us?” he asked.
“Well, we know Tre wants her to play with him,” Billie laughed.
“Shut up,” Tre blushed before retreating to his drums.
“Come on, what do you say,” Mike begged. “We could really use you.” He smiled at me, trying to send a cute puppy-dog type look at me.
“Sure, why not?” I said, following Billie to the guitar selection.

[suicideXmakeover]

PART TEN

We were in the middle of playing “Are We The Waiting” when my cell phone rang. It’s annoying, chirpy tune echoed throughout the rehearsal room, and Mike’s fine-tuned ears picked it up. He stopped playing.
“Why’d you stop?” Billie asked as the entire band came to a screeching halt. My cell phone rang again, and Mike pointed to my purse.
“Damn it,” I whispered, rushing to my purse and pulling out the cell phone. “Hello?”<br> “Hey, baby,” Tim said, in his best seductive voice. “I called you yesterday and some chick answered and said you weren’t available. And I called your apartment and Romy said you weren’t home. What’s up?”<br> “Nothing, Tim. You’ve caught me at a bad time, okay?” I groaned, looking apologetically at the band. Billie just nodded, like he completely understood. Mike couldn’t seem to care less, but Tre honestly looked a bit forlorn.
“Honey, we need to talk, right now,” he said.
“Not now,” I moaned. “Please.”<br> “No. Right now. I know you’re working, but this is your lunch break, so whatever you’re doing can wait. I have to ask you something very important.”<br> “Fine,” I grunted. “What is it?”<br> “Are you cheating on me?”<br> “What?!” I screeched. “No! Why would you even ask that?”<br> “Well, you never came home last night. I called Romy this morning and she said you still weren’t there. So you slept somewhere else besides your home, and I know that if you were visiting your mother, you would’ve had your cell. It would make sense for me to think that you’re cheating on me,” he snapped.
“I’m not,” I assured him.
“Then where were you last night?”<br> Crap, he had me there. Was I going to tell him that I flat out spent the night at the house of the rock star he knew I had been crushing on since I was at least 16? “Look, I’ll tell you about it later,” I sighed.
“No, damn it, you’ll tell me about it now,” he said, his voice growing very sharp and cold. He had never talked to me like this before.
“I’m in the middle of something and it’s a long story.”<br> “I’m not asking for an explanation. Just tell me where you were last night,” he said, talking to me as if I was three years old.
“Fine,” I said, lowering my voice so the guys wouldn’t hear me. “I was at Tre Cool’s house.”<br> “Don’t fucking lie to me,” he snapped.
“I’m not lying to you, Tim,” I said, almost in tears by now. “I’m telling you the truth. Honest.”<br> “You’re a lying whore,” he said. “I can’t believe a word you say.”<br> “Did you just call me a whore?” I asked, my voice raising. Mike had heard me, but I’m pretty sure he was the only one. He removed his bass, sat it on the floor and walked over to me. “And I’m not a liar,” I said. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.”<br> “I can talk to you however the hell I want,” he screamed. “After all, I’m the one who’s getting treated like a worn out piece of shit!”<br> “I’M NOT LYING TO YOU, TIM!” I exploded. “I’M TELLING YOU THE TRUTH AND IF YOU DON’T WANT TO BELIEVE IT THEN YOU CAN GO TO HELL!” The tears were streaming down my cheeks, and I was practically sobbing. Mike, concerned, placed his arm around my shoulder, but I shrugged him off. Billie and Tre looked helplessly at each other, then Tre walked over and stood next to Mike.
“Don’t tell me to go to hell, you bitch,” Tim snapped. “If you want, I’ll give you another chance. But you have to swear to me you’ll never cheat on me again.”<br> “What the hell?” I panted into the phone. “First of all, you just told me you can’t believe me, so if I swore I wouldn’t cheat, what would that mean to you? Secondly, I didn’t cheat on you. But I sure as hell can see why I would. Thirdly, consider our relationship over. I don’t see why I even fucked you in the first place.” As soon as the last word came out of my mouth, I snapped my phone shut, silenced it, and tossed it back into my purse. I let out one final sob, then turned and looked at the guys. Billie’s eyes were wide, and he looked rather frightened. Mike was giving me a very sympathetic look, like he totally knew what I was going through, even though he had no idea. But Tre looked like he was going to cry, too, just because of my sorrows. And the next thing I knew, I had passed out on the floor.

[suicideXmakeover]

This part's kind of short. Sorry about that.

PART 11

When I woke up, I was laying on a couch, and I could hear Tre’s voice. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but his voice still brought me comfort. I looked around. I wasn’t in the rehearsal room anymore. I was in the fancy employee lounge thing, which I had only been in once. There was a doctor in the doorway, talking to Tre and Mike, who both seemed pretty concerned, although neither of them had noticed I was awake. There was a TV mounted on the wall in front of me. There was some commercial for a local car dealership. I watched the commercial for a few moments, aware of every fake smile that would be used to lure some poor family into buying an overpriced Camry that they probably wouldn’t need.
“Hey,” said an unfamiliar voice. I looked up and saw the doctor. He smiled at me. “Seems you had a little episode back there. How are you feeling? Tired? Nauseous? Dizzy?”<br> “Tired,” I said. “But can I talk to the guys?”<br> “The guys?” the doctor asked as he arched his eyebrow. “You mean Green Day?”<br> I found it kind of amusing that the doctor refered to them all by one title, but I guess that comes with being in a band. “Yeah, them,” I said.
“They just went back to the rehearsal room,” the doctor said. “You can go ahead up there whenever you feel well enough to walk. But I’d prefer if you didn’t drive for 24 hours.” I nodded, even though I was mentally cussing, since I had no way to get home now. The doctor gave me a few more instructions. Doctors are always giving you instructions that you never remember. They should just write them down, then you’ll remember them.
Not long after the doctor disappeared through the doorway, I stood and made my way toward the elevator. It took me practically forever to figure out that I was on the fourth floor. When I finally got to the second floor, the guys seemed kind of surprised to see me. The first thing I said was, “I can’t drive you home today, Tre. Hell, I can’t even drive myself home.”<br> “Don’t worry about it,” Mike said. “I can drive you both home.”<br> “What about her car?” Billie asked. I just shrugged and made my way over to the guitar stash, where I lifted the guitar I had been playing before.
“So, what are we playing?” I asked. They all just stared at me.
“Are you sure you wanna play?” Mike asked. “I mean, you could just sit out if you need to.”<br> “No, I’m fine,” I said. “In fact, I think it’s best I do something to get my mind off of all this.”<br> “Okay,” Billie nodded. “Jackass. Tre, count us in.”<br> I heard Tre counting in the background, and at the sound of 4, I attempted to drown my sorrows in the sounds of the music.

[Kill]

AHHHH!!! IT'S TOO GOOD TO BARE! WRITE MORE!!! ;D ;D ;D