When I Come Around Part 5
Author: timrod
Rating: NC17 overall
Pairing: Billie Joe/other
Disclaimer: I don't own Green Day.
Part 1 - http://comingclean.livejournal.com/2953785.html#cutid1
Part 2 - http://comingclean.livejournal.com/2954009.html
Part 3 - http://comingclean.livejournal.com/2954629.html
Part 4 - http://comingclean.livejournal.com/2955105.html
PART 5
Jay appeared in the kitchen door, yawning and stretching, and swamped by a huge white robe, his hair like a haystack. He’d followed his nose to find Billie - he was cooking breakfast and the smell of coffee and pancakes and bacon had led him through the house. Billie was wearing just an old grey sweatsuit, and he twisted to smile at the new arrival, as usual, getting a grin in return.
“Good morning. How did you sleep?”
“Real good, thanks. That bed is much more comfortable than the one at the hospital.”
“I think the first thing I bought with my money for the first million seller was a new bed. Can’t beat a good night’s sleep. You hungry? I’m doing my domestic god thing here. Make the most of it. I don’t cook much, but breakfast, I can do.”
“Smells awesome. Do you need a hand?”
“Yeah, thanks. You can get the plates down and the cups are over there. I’m pretty much done here.”
Jay set the crockery out by the two stools and cutlery that Billie had already put in place, and stood behind him, watching him flip the last pancake, hands deep in the robe’s pockets. “Jake’s nice.”
“Yeah. He’s one of the good ones. I rely on him a lot, professionally and I suppose he’s the closest thing I got to a personal assistant. I respect his opinion.” Billie turned off the stove and scooped the pancake onto a plate with a dozen others. “He liked you.”
“So you talked about me after I went to bed? Should I be worried?”
“No, it was all good. We think we can find you something to do at the studio if you’d like that.”
“Wow, really?”
“Yeah, really, but there’s nothing that can’t wait until you feel better. The album should be finished this week, and that will be the perfect time to get some stuff we’ve neglected sorted out. Here, sit, eat this before it gets cold.”
They spoke very little during the meal, eating as if last night’s feast had never happened. When Billie drained his first cup, he leaned back on his high stool and smiled at the man discovering the delights of coffee for the first time.
“Good?”
“Yeah. Very. I like this a lot.”
“We drink gallons of it at the studio. Sometimes we work through the night, when the music is just - you know - right and we don’t want to stop. Some of my best stuff has been recorded in the middle of the night, and it’s all courtesy of coffee. Well, and beer.”
Jay sipped his drink, two hands cradled around the huge cup. “And it’s just you on the records?”
“Yeah. I play all the guitars, and the bass on the studio recorded stuff, piano too, if needed. I drum as well, got a kit here at home, but we get a guy in to lay down the rhythm tracks and occasionally we’ll get someone in to add strings or horns, but mostly I’m a solo artist.” Billie chuckled. “In love and in music.”
“Carrie’s mad to have left you. Last night was fun.”
“Yeah, just not her kind of fun. I expect we can read about her party in the gossip columns on Monday, not that I buy those types of magazines. But enough about her - she’s history. What about you - what do you want to do today?”
“I’m not the best person to ask. What do rock stars normally do on a Sunday?”
“This one sleeps off Saturday’s hangover, but not today. Do you want to go for a drive, see the city? I mean, something you see might jog your memory.”
“I think I’d like that very much.”
“Okay, we can do that, grab some lunch out then attack that pile of movies again.”
Jay poured himself another coffee, refilling Billie’s mug at the same time. “It was funny watching you two. Are you always like that?”
“Pretty much. Two kids still - we never grew up.”
“It looks a good way to be. The people at the hospital were much too serious.”
“It’s a kinda serious place. I hate them, try to avoid them.”
“I’m glad you didn’t yesterday.” Jay took a long sip before carrying on. “I’m never gonna be able to thank you enough.”
“You just did. Actually, I’m gonna get serious for a minute.”
“Oh?”
Billie put down his coffee and placed his hand over Jay’s, resting on the table. “It’s not too serious - I hope. Jay, I want you to see my doctor.”
“Errr ... why? Is there something I should know?”
“No. No. nothing like that. It’s just a second opinion. I want him to give you a proper physical, make sure there really is nothing to worry about.”
Jay spoke very slowly. “Okay. If you think ...”
“That hospital’s a busy place. They did the bare minimum of tests and checks. I just want to make sure my future employee is fit for the job!”
“Well, if you put it like that ... okay.”
Billie slipped from his stool, patting Jay on the back before clearing away the empty plates. “Come on, this lot goes in the dishwasher and then we need to get dressed. It looks cold out there again, so wrap up warm.”
**
Jay reappeared in the kitchen a bare minute after Billie, who was clearing up the last of the mess from breakfast. He’d chosen jeans again, and another plain t-shirt, the outfit to be finished by the zipped sweat top currently draped over his arm. Bright red Converse provided the only colour apart from black, clashing crazily with hair that bordered on ginger.
“Looking good. Are you ready?”
“Yeah sort of. Billie, do you think you can take this off? It’s kinda stuck ...”
The singer dried his hands on his pants and came over for a closer look. The tape holding the dressing in place had unpeeled from Jay’s skin, and attached itself to a large clump of hair. “Yep, it’s stuck alright. I don’t think I can get it out unless I cut it out. You’re gonna lose a lot of hair this side. Fuck.”
“I don’t care - just get rid of it.”
“Yeah, it’s not doing much good. The wound looks fine, though.” Billie ran the hair through his fingers, from the nape of Jay’s neck to the ends. “What if I call my stylist, get him to come and see what he can do. He’s only a few minutes from here.”
Jay grinned, eyes twinkling. “You do it. You cut it, as short as you like, all over.”
“Jay, my friend, I am not a hairdresser.”
“But I bet you’d like to try.”
“I’ve cut hair before ...” Billie giggled. “I got this guy - Mike - he plays bass for me on tour, has done for years. He’s fucking good. We both got drunk one night after a show and, well, there was this pair of scissors just lying around and he suggested we should cut each other’s hair, and .... you can guess the rest.”
“How’d it turn out?”
“Let’s just say my manager was not a happy man the next morning. Mike ended up shaving it all off, then spent weeks trying to convince everyone he wasn’t sick. It didn’t help that he was so skinny after months on the road. Look, are you sure you want me to do this after telling you that? I can make that call ...”
“Do it.” Jay climbed onto one of the stools, and Billie caved in, never able to resist a challenge, or such a cheeky smile.
**
The sun came out for most of their sightseeing tour, glinting on the surface of the water that dominated the city, and showing it in its best light. They stayed in the car, partly to avoid the odd shower and the cold, but also to cover as much ground as possible, but none of the sights that Billie had known since childhood meant anything to Jay, seemingly seeing everything for the first time. They had a sandwich in a small Bayside bakery late in the afternoon, finally heading for home as the sun dropped between the uprights of Golden Gate.
The kitchen still smelled vaguely of bacon, but neither man felt in the least bit hungry, opting for those sofas in the den and more movies. Jay caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror as he passed, and stopped to grin at Billie’s handiwork.
“You did great. This looks real good.”
Billie stood close behind, looking over Jay’s shoulder at the finished result - reasonably even, spiked with a handful of Billie’s gel. “Actually, I’m pretty impressed with how it turned out. It’ll be easier for you to control than your yeti hair.”
“I’ve no idea what yeti hair is but that wasn’t a compliment, was it?”
“Nope. I found something to fall back on when people finally get sick of hearing my voice. Billie Joe, stylist to the stars!”
“I hope I can find something I’m good at.”
“You will, I’m sure, and it’ll be fun finding out what it is.” Fingers on the door handle, Billie hesitated. “I never showed you the rest of the house, did I? Do you want the tour now, or are you too tired?”
“I’m okay. I hadn’t thought about it, but I feel pretty much wide awake today.”
“Must be a sign that you’re getting better. That’s good.”
“I didn’t take any pills, not since last night. I thought I wouldn’t take them if I didn’t need them.”
“Something else to check with my doc when you see him. I want to get a few things wrapped up tomorrow, but I’ll see if he can fit you in on Tuesday.”
“Whatever suits you, Billie. I suppose that will cost you money as well?”
“Peanuts.” Jay looked blank, and Billie added, “Nothing for you to worry about. Come on, follow me for the tour.”
Jay’s mouth gaped wider with every new part of the house that he saw. The dining room and the formal sitting room were both beautifully furnished, tasteful and elegant, although Billie confessed that they were hardly ever used, guests always preferring to eat in the kitchen, or crash in the cosy, casual den. His office was a little less neat and tidy, but Billie hurried on because he wanted to get to what he described as ‘the fun part’ of the house. Through one door, Jay discovered walls covered in shelves filled with dvds, cassettes, cds and vinyl, with a screen on one wall and speakers that stood taller than he did. Through another was a small gym, leading to an indoor pool and a games room, until finally, they reached Billie’s workspace and haven - his home studio.
“God, how many guitars do you need?”
“Need, possibly three or four. Own - I lost count. The companies ask me to design my own, then give me a ton of them to try out or give away.” Billie trailed a finger over the keys of an ebony black grand piano before walking the length of the guitar rack, touching each instrument on the bottom row in turn. “Do you want to hear something?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“Okay.” He thought for a few seconds before picking out a black acoustic and sat on the drum stool, strumming and tuning the strings until the sound was right. And then he sang - a song he had performed a thousand times, but that Jay had never heard before, at least, not knowingly. He watched intently, eyes glued to nimble fingers when they weren’t captivated by the emotion on Billie’s face, as lost in the moment as the singer so obviously was. Too soon, the song ended, sweet notes fading to nothing in the room’s perfect acoustics, and Jay was left speechless. The guitar was put back into its place on the rack and Billie headed for the door, Jay close behind, neither man feeling that it was right to break the spell cast by the music.
Before the tour continued, and still without a word having been spoken, Billie stopped off at the kitchen and helped himself to a beer from the fridge, Jay waiting in the hallway, declining one for himself with a shake of his head. Billie gulped it down quickly, leaving the empty bottle on the counter before climbing the staircase and opening the doors onto the hallowed space that was his suite.
“Holy shit.”
Billie at last cracked a small smile. “You like it?”
“It’s like a house inside a house.”
“Yeah, I suppose you could say that.” Billie threw himself onto a sofa, but the room contained other seats - two in window alcoves that flanked huge glass panels opening onto a balcony, and a couple of other sofas scattered around the richly carpeted floor. Another set of double doors were open, and through them, Jay could see a bed that was twice the size of his own, which was itself far from small. “I spend a lot of time in hotels when I tour, and they always give me a really good room. I used to come home and feel cramped in my own bedroom, so when I had this place built a couple of years ago, I sort of indulged myself. Go explore ....”
Jay did just that. He opened sliding glass doors like those in his room, but behind these were yards of shirts, pants and suits, a row of shoes running the whole of the bottom of the closet, mainly in the same style - Billie’s favourite Cons. The bathroom was like his, but on a bigger scale, with a huge sunken spa pool in the middle of it, clear azure water hissing and fizzing in the subtle lighting. He couldn’t resist a quick bounce on the bed, draped in hot pink sheets, before returning to a very mellow, subdued Billie.
“It’s amazing. I love it.”
“Most of it is my taste. The bed covers were Carrie’s choice. I had black before, but she hated them.”
“I should think they looked cool.”
“They did, but she said it was like sleeping in a grave. I’ll get them put back on the bed tomorrow, and burn those fucking Barbie ones.”
“You said you have some help here.”
“Yeah. There’s gardeners for the jungle out there, and I have the wonderful Bernadette - she cleans the house once a week - twice if I have guests, and she takes care of the basic shopping, does my laundry, too, changes the bedlinen, stuff like that. I’d live like a pig otherwise. She’s a friend of Mom’s - totally trustworthy. Her daughter went to the same schools as me for a time, she’s just a coupla years older. She should be here tomorrow morning - before we leave.”
“She does a great job.” Jay sat down on Billie’s sofa and patted his leg. “It’s lovely. It feels .....” He shook his head and bit his lip. “No...”
“Go on. What were you going to say?”
“I was going to say it feels like home, but that’s fucking stupid because I don’t know what home feels like, do I?”
“I suppose you don’t, but I really want you to be comfortable here.” Billie started his nervous habit of picking at the seam of his seam of his jeans. He’d ruined more pants that way than any other. “Sorry if I got a bit ... intense down there just now.”
“It’s okay. That music - it was beautiful.”
“Thanks. It’s probably the most personal record I ever made. September Song. I wrote it about my dad.”
“Yeah, you told me about him, he died when you were a kid, right?”
“Uh -ha. I was ten. It was hard, but I suppose it made me what I am today. I still miss him, think about him every day - and every time I sing that song.”
“I wonder if I got a dad.”
“if there’s someone out there looking for you, we will find them, I promise. We’ll give the cops a call again tomorrow, see if they got any more ideas, but I could hire a private investigator if you like, see if they can dig anything up.”
Jay leaned back into the cushions, stared at the ceiling and took a long time to answer. “I don’t know. I’m so fucking confused. It’s like ... like if someone wanted to find me, why didn’t they do it before now? I don’t want to know that nobody cared about me enough ...” He sobbed out loud, despite his efforts to disguise it, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, and Billie snaked an arm around his shoulder. “Sorry. Look, I think I am tired after all, and you said we need to be somewhere tomorrow .... “
“The studio, yeah. We don’t have to be there too early, or you could stay here if you prefer.”
“No, I want to go with you. I’m going to bed, Billie. I got a bit of a headache again, too, so thank you for today and I’ll see you in the morning.”
**
Billie watched Jay’s door close behind him, listened to him moving about for a while, waiting for his light to go out. Only then did he go back to the kitchen to check that he had locked up securely, returning to his room with another beer. He undressed quickly, putting an extra cover on the bed to keep so-very-nearly December at bay, before snuggling down and pressing speed-dial one.
“Hey, Mom? It’s me - Billie ..... no, no, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to talk.”
Pairing: Billie Joe/other
Disclaimer: I don't own Green Day.
Part 1 - http://comingclean.livejournal.com/2953785.html#cutid1
Part 2 - http://comingclean.livejournal.com/2954009.html
Part 3 - http://comingclean.livejournal.com/2954629.html
Part 4 - http://comingclean.livejournal.com/2955105.html
PART 5
Jay appeared in the kitchen door, yawning and stretching, and swamped by a huge white robe, his hair like a haystack. He’d followed his nose to find Billie - he was cooking breakfast and the smell of coffee and pancakes and bacon had led him through the house. Billie was wearing just an old grey sweatsuit, and he twisted to smile at the new arrival, as usual, getting a grin in return.
“Good morning. How did you sleep?”
“Real good, thanks. That bed is much more comfortable than the one at the hospital.”
“I think the first thing I bought with my money for the first million seller was a new bed. Can’t beat a good night’s sleep. You hungry? I’m doing my domestic god thing here. Make the most of it. I don’t cook much, but breakfast, I can do.”
“Smells awesome. Do you need a hand?”
“Yeah, thanks. You can get the plates down and the cups are over there. I’m pretty much done here.”
Jay set the crockery out by the two stools and cutlery that Billie had already put in place, and stood behind him, watching him flip the last pancake, hands deep in the robe’s pockets. “Jake’s nice.”
“Yeah. He’s one of the good ones. I rely on him a lot, professionally and I suppose he’s the closest thing I got to a personal assistant. I respect his opinion.” Billie turned off the stove and scooped the pancake onto a plate with a dozen others. “He liked you.”
“So you talked about me after I went to bed? Should I be worried?”
“No, it was all good. We think we can find you something to do at the studio if you’d like that.”
“Wow, really?”
“Yeah, really, but there’s nothing that can’t wait until you feel better. The album should be finished this week, and that will be the perfect time to get some stuff we’ve neglected sorted out. Here, sit, eat this before it gets cold.”
They spoke very little during the meal, eating as if last night’s feast had never happened. When Billie drained his first cup, he leaned back on his high stool and smiled at the man discovering the delights of coffee for the first time.
“Good?”
“Yeah. Very. I like this a lot.”
“We drink gallons of it at the studio. Sometimes we work through the night, when the music is just - you know - right and we don’t want to stop. Some of my best stuff has been recorded in the middle of the night, and it’s all courtesy of coffee. Well, and beer.”
Jay sipped his drink, two hands cradled around the huge cup. “And it’s just you on the records?”
“Yeah. I play all the guitars, and the bass on the studio recorded stuff, piano too, if needed. I drum as well, got a kit here at home, but we get a guy in to lay down the rhythm tracks and occasionally we’ll get someone in to add strings or horns, but mostly I’m a solo artist.” Billie chuckled. “In love and in music.”
“Carrie’s mad to have left you. Last night was fun.”
“Yeah, just not her kind of fun. I expect we can read about her party in the gossip columns on Monday, not that I buy those types of magazines. But enough about her - she’s history. What about you - what do you want to do today?”
“I’m not the best person to ask. What do rock stars normally do on a Sunday?”
“This one sleeps off Saturday’s hangover, but not today. Do you want to go for a drive, see the city? I mean, something you see might jog your memory.”
“I think I’d like that very much.”
“Okay, we can do that, grab some lunch out then attack that pile of movies again.”
Jay poured himself another coffee, refilling Billie’s mug at the same time. “It was funny watching you two. Are you always like that?”
“Pretty much. Two kids still - we never grew up.”
“It looks a good way to be. The people at the hospital were much too serious.”
“It’s a kinda serious place. I hate them, try to avoid them.”
“I’m glad you didn’t yesterday.” Jay took a long sip before carrying on. “I’m never gonna be able to thank you enough.”
“You just did. Actually, I’m gonna get serious for a minute.”
“Oh?”
Billie put down his coffee and placed his hand over Jay’s, resting on the table. “It’s not too serious - I hope. Jay, I want you to see my doctor.”
“Errr ... why? Is there something I should know?”
“No. No. nothing like that. It’s just a second opinion. I want him to give you a proper physical, make sure there really is nothing to worry about.”
Jay spoke very slowly. “Okay. If you think ...”
“That hospital’s a busy place. They did the bare minimum of tests and checks. I just want to make sure my future employee is fit for the job!”
“Well, if you put it like that ... okay.”
Billie slipped from his stool, patting Jay on the back before clearing away the empty plates. “Come on, this lot goes in the dishwasher and then we need to get dressed. It looks cold out there again, so wrap up warm.”
**
Jay reappeared in the kitchen a bare minute after Billie, who was clearing up the last of the mess from breakfast. He’d chosen jeans again, and another plain t-shirt, the outfit to be finished by the zipped sweat top currently draped over his arm. Bright red Converse provided the only colour apart from black, clashing crazily with hair that bordered on ginger.
“Looking good. Are you ready?”
“Yeah sort of. Billie, do you think you can take this off? It’s kinda stuck ...”
The singer dried his hands on his pants and came over for a closer look. The tape holding the dressing in place had unpeeled from Jay’s skin, and attached itself to a large clump of hair. “Yep, it’s stuck alright. I don’t think I can get it out unless I cut it out. You’re gonna lose a lot of hair this side. Fuck.”
“I don’t care - just get rid of it.”
“Yeah, it’s not doing much good. The wound looks fine, though.” Billie ran the hair through his fingers, from the nape of Jay’s neck to the ends. “What if I call my stylist, get him to come and see what he can do. He’s only a few minutes from here.”
Jay grinned, eyes twinkling. “You do it. You cut it, as short as you like, all over.”
“Jay, my friend, I am not a hairdresser.”
“But I bet you’d like to try.”
“I’ve cut hair before ...” Billie giggled. “I got this guy - Mike - he plays bass for me on tour, has done for years. He’s fucking good. We both got drunk one night after a show and, well, there was this pair of scissors just lying around and he suggested we should cut each other’s hair, and .... you can guess the rest.”
“How’d it turn out?”
“Let’s just say my manager was not a happy man the next morning. Mike ended up shaving it all off, then spent weeks trying to convince everyone he wasn’t sick. It didn’t help that he was so skinny after months on the road. Look, are you sure you want me to do this after telling you that? I can make that call ...”
“Do it.” Jay climbed onto one of the stools, and Billie caved in, never able to resist a challenge, or such a cheeky smile.
**
The sun came out for most of their sightseeing tour, glinting on the surface of the water that dominated the city, and showing it in its best light. They stayed in the car, partly to avoid the odd shower and the cold, but also to cover as much ground as possible, but none of the sights that Billie had known since childhood meant anything to Jay, seemingly seeing everything for the first time. They had a sandwich in a small Bayside bakery late in the afternoon, finally heading for home as the sun dropped between the uprights of Golden Gate.
The kitchen still smelled vaguely of bacon, but neither man felt in the least bit hungry, opting for those sofas in the den and more movies. Jay caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror as he passed, and stopped to grin at Billie’s handiwork.
“You did great. This looks real good.”
Billie stood close behind, looking over Jay’s shoulder at the finished result - reasonably even, spiked with a handful of Billie’s gel. “Actually, I’m pretty impressed with how it turned out. It’ll be easier for you to control than your yeti hair.”
“I’ve no idea what yeti hair is but that wasn’t a compliment, was it?”
“Nope. I found something to fall back on when people finally get sick of hearing my voice. Billie Joe, stylist to the stars!”
“I hope I can find something I’m good at.”
“You will, I’m sure, and it’ll be fun finding out what it is.” Fingers on the door handle, Billie hesitated. “I never showed you the rest of the house, did I? Do you want the tour now, or are you too tired?”
“I’m okay. I hadn’t thought about it, but I feel pretty much wide awake today.”
“Must be a sign that you’re getting better. That’s good.”
“I didn’t take any pills, not since last night. I thought I wouldn’t take them if I didn’t need them.”
“Something else to check with my doc when you see him. I want to get a few things wrapped up tomorrow, but I’ll see if he can fit you in on Tuesday.”
“Whatever suits you, Billie. I suppose that will cost you money as well?”
“Peanuts.” Jay looked blank, and Billie added, “Nothing for you to worry about. Come on, follow me for the tour.”
Jay’s mouth gaped wider with every new part of the house that he saw. The dining room and the formal sitting room were both beautifully furnished, tasteful and elegant, although Billie confessed that they were hardly ever used, guests always preferring to eat in the kitchen, or crash in the cosy, casual den. His office was a little less neat and tidy, but Billie hurried on because he wanted to get to what he described as ‘the fun part’ of the house. Through one door, Jay discovered walls covered in shelves filled with dvds, cassettes, cds and vinyl, with a screen on one wall and speakers that stood taller than he did. Through another was a small gym, leading to an indoor pool and a games room, until finally, they reached Billie’s workspace and haven - his home studio.
“God, how many guitars do you need?”
“Need, possibly three or four. Own - I lost count. The companies ask me to design my own, then give me a ton of them to try out or give away.” Billie trailed a finger over the keys of an ebony black grand piano before walking the length of the guitar rack, touching each instrument on the bottom row in turn. “Do you want to hear something?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“Okay.” He thought for a few seconds before picking out a black acoustic and sat on the drum stool, strumming and tuning the strings until the sound was right. And then he sang - a song he had performed a thousand times, but that Jay had never heard before, at least, not knowingly. He watched intently, eyes glued to nimble fingers when they weren’t captivated by the emotion on Billie’s face, as lost in the moment as the singer so obviously was. Too soon, the song ended, sweet notes fading to nothing in the room’s perfect acoustics, and Jay was left speechless. The guitar was put back into its place on the rack and Billie headed for the door, Jay close behind, neither man feeling that it was right to break the spell cast by the music.
Before the tour continued, and still without a word having been spoken, Billie stopped off at the kitchen and helped himself to a beer from the fridge, Jay waiting in the hallway, declining one for himself with a shake of his head. Billie gulped it down quickly, leaving the empty bottle on the counter before climbing the staircase and opening the doors onto the hallowed space that was his suite.
“Holy shit.”
Billie at last cracked a small smile. “You like it?”
“It’s like a house inside a house.”
“Yeah, I suppose you could say that.” Billie threw himself onto a sofa, but the room contained other seats - two in window alcoves that flanked huge glass panels opening onto a balcony, and a couple of other sofas scattered around the richly carpeted floor. Another set of double doors were open, and through them, Jay could see a bed that was twice the size of his own, which was itself far from small. “I spend a lot of time in hotels when I tour, and they always give me a really good room. I used to come home and feel cramped in my own bedroom, so when I had this place built a couple of years ago, I sort of indulged myself. Go explore ....”
Jay did just that. He opened sliding glass doors like those in his room, but behind these were yards of shirts, pants and suits, a row of shoes running the whole of the bottom of the closet, mainly in the same style - Billie’s favourite Cons. The bathroom was like his, but on a bigger scale, with a huge sunken spa pool in the middle of it, clear azure water hissing and fizzing in the subtle lighting. He couldn’t resist a quick bounce on the bed, draped in hot pink sheets, before returning to a very mellow, subdued Billie.
“It’s amazing. I love it.”
“Most of it is my taste. The bed covers were Carrie’s choice. I had black before, but she hated them.”
“I should think they looked cool.”
“They did, but she said it was like sleeping in a grave. I’ll get them put back on the bed tomorrow, and burn those fucking Barbie ones.”
“You said you have some help here.”
“Yeah. There’s gardeners for the jungle out there, and I have the wonderful Bernadette - she cleans the house once a week - twice if I have guests, and she takes care of the basic shopping, does my laundry, too, changes the bedlinen, stuff like that. I’d live like a pig otherwise. She’s a friend of Mom’s - totally trustworthy. Her daughter went to the same schools as me for a time, she’s just a coupla years older. She should be here tomorrow morning - before we leave.”
“She does a great job.” Jay sat down on Billie’s sofa and patted his leg. “It’s lovely. It feels .....” He shook his head and bit his lip. “No...”
“Go on. What were you going to say?”
“I was going to say it feels like home, but that’s fucking stupid because I don’t know what home feels like, do I?”
“I suppose you don’t, but I really want you to be comfortable here.” Billie started his nervous habit of picking at the seam of his seam of his jeans. He’d ruined more pants that way than any other. “Sorry if I got a bit ... intense down there just now.”
“It’s okay. That music - it was beautiful.”
“Thanks. It’s probably the most personal record I ever made. September Song. I wrote it about my dad.”
“Yeah, you told me about him, he died when you were a kid, right?”
“Uh -ha. I was ten. It was hard, but I suppose it made me what I am today. I still miss him, think about him every day - and every time I sing that song.”
“I wonder if I got a dad.”
“if there’s someone out there looking for you, we will find them, I promise. We’ll give the cops a call again tomorrow, see if they got any more ideas, but I could hire a private investigator if you like, see if they can dig anything up.”
Jay leaned back into the cushions, stared at the ceiling and took a long time to answer. “I don’t know. I’m so fucking confused. It’s like ... like if someone wanted to find me, why didn’t they do it before now? I don’t want to know that nobody cared about me enough ...” He sobbed out loud, despite his efforts to disguise it, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, and Billie snaked an arm around his shoulder. “Sorry. Look, I think I am tired after all, and you said we need to be somewhere tomorrow .... “
“The studio, yeah. We don’t have to be there too early, or you could stay here if you prefer.”
“No, I want to go with you. I’m going to bed, Billie. I got a bit of a headache again, too, so thank you for today and I’ll see you in the morning.”
**
Billie watched Jay’s door close behind him, listened to him moving about for a while, waiting for his light to go out. Only then did he go back to the kitchen to check that he had locked up securely, returning to his room with another beer. He undressed quickly, putting an extra cover on the bed to keep so-very-nearly December at bay, before snuggling down and pressing speed-dial one.
“Hey, Mom? It’s me - Billie ..... no, no, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to talk.”