When I Come Around Part 7
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 - http://comingclean.livejournal.com/2956943.html
Part 6 - http://comingclean.livejournal.com/2957718.html
7
By the time Friday came around, Jay was getting used to the routine of getting up reasonably early to go to the studio. With the music out of the way, the techs were not needed, and for most of the time, it was just Billie, Jay and Jake, with the receptionist out front in the office fielding the phone calls or running errands to the coffee shop for bagels and pumpkin lattes to keep them fueled up. This was the time that the studio’s contents got rationalised and ready for the next recording session, Jake checking out all of the electrical equipment, Billie going through a rack of guitars about a quarter of the size of the one at home, looking for any repairs that needed carrying out. That inevitably ended up in a jam session, Jake and Billie singing along to the music blaring out from the sound desk, a playlist that included The Replacements, and The Ramones - whilst Jay listened and learned. They found odd jobs for him to do, tidying drawers and cupboards, nothing too taxing, getting the space ready for the end of album celebration.
It had become a tradition, started over ten years ago when Jake and Billie first bought the building between them, after nearly a decade of having to wait for someone else’s studio to become free. A couple of days after a recording was at the mastering stage, the partners always threw an ‘end of album’ party as a thank you for anyone that had helped in its production, inception and completion - designers, session musicians, the techs and their other halves - a party that had passed into local music legend. It was always a last-minute affair, but so worth attending that guests would blow off long-standing arrangements to be there, even at this busy holiday period. Far removed from the celebrity parties that Carrie favoured, this would be a genuine meeting of friends, and Jay could tell that the business partners were looking forward to it very much.
After lunch on the Friday, Billie pointed out a huge cardboard box, gathering dust in the corner of the now empty office, because he had already sent the receptionist home.
“Can you go through that for me, please, give them a bit of a clean up if they need it, then they can go in the back room.”
Jay lifted the lid and gasped at the jumbled contents. “Hey, some of these are pretty. What are they?”
Billie fished around in the box, taking out a few of the metal and glass trophies, some in frames. “This one’s a Grammy, this is from the VMAs, That’s a platinum disc, this is ...... fuck knows ... some random radio station award. These are from the last album and the singles that went with it.”
“And they’re hidden away in a box?”
Billie shrugged. “Got no room for them in here, or at home. I’ll give them away tomorrow to the people that really deserve them. I got a load of stuff to bring in from home, too. Companies are always sending me their shit to try, and you get a fuckload of stuff given to you at the awards shows. I don’t need it and I don’t want it.” He stroked a finger over the plaque on one of the Grammys, and smiled to himself. “Maybe I’ll keep this one.”
“September Song?” Billie nodded vaguely, smiling and yet looking so sad at the same time.
“Yeah. Song of the Year, 2010.”
“So it isn’t just me that loves it?”
“Apparently not - and thank you.”
“So can you tell me what else happens tomorrow? I know nothing about parties.”
“Booze, food, music.” This time, the smile was in his eyes, not just on his lips, and Jay noticed the subtle change. “Not much different from being at home, really. And lots of people. Good people. Real people.”
“I think it sounds nice. Kinda scary, but nice.”
“Scary?”
“Yeah. Lots of people.”
Billie placed an almost fatherly hand on Jay’s shoulder. “Look, if it gets too much for you, you can hide out in the back room, or I can get someone to take you home, but I think you’ll like it. There will be a lot of people you already met - the techs here, Jake, Mike ...”
“Your mom?”
“No. No, not Mom. It’ll be a bit too loud for her.”
“Okay.”
“So you’re alright doing this, then?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Good, thanks. I’m gonna be back in the studio for a bit. Jake wants me to test out some old mikes, see if they got any life left in them. We’ll probably head off in an hour or so. Jake asked if we want to hang with him tonight - pizza, maybe catch some sport on TV?”
“Sounds great.”
“Do you even know what pizza is?”
“Not a clue. I meant the ‘we’. Makes me feel sort of included.”
“Trust me, Jay, he’s your friend, too. Fuck, I nearly forgot.” Billie pulled a folded envelope from his back pocket. “He gave me something for you. Your wages.”
“But Billie, I ...”
“You take it - you earned it. Enjoy it.” The singer closed Jay’s fingers around the creased paper and grinned. “See you in a bit. We’ll be in the recording space if you want us.”
**
The evening at Jake’s was relaxed and easy, a perfect wind-down after a busy week. Jay noticed the wall of music and dvds almost as soon as they walked in the door, littered with titles that had become familiar to him over the past few days, even if the contents themselves weren’t yet, and again, he was struck by the similarities between the two men. The living room was very like the den - even the colour scheme was in more or less identical taste. Jay felt very much at home almost immediately, in this miniature version of Billie’s vast home. The pizza was a success, too, but the sport got sidelined in favour of music videos, both official and YouTube performances, some badly shot in small, smoky venues, twenty years earlier, some from the last tour. Just as he had with the photographs at Ollie’s house, Billie cringed with embarrassment at the early footage, until Jake finally noticed the killer looks he was getting, and switched to a music channel instead.
The talk from then on was mostly of the party, and who was and who wasn’t going to be there, their past achievements and their working relationship with Billie and Jake. Jay wasn’t kidding himself that he was going to remember half of it, but a couple of facts stuck in his mind - the drummer didn’t seem to be the most reliable or popular invitee, and Mike was gay.
“Gay?”
“He is in a relationship with another man, Jay. His partner in the business - Rudy. They’ve been together for years now.”
“So it’s kinda unusual, then, two men together....?”
“Not unusual, not in San Francisco, anyway, but there are people that think it’s the worst thing in the world. Fucking narrow-minded bigots .... denying people happiness.“
“Yeah, sounds unfair.”
“I think they have one of the most stable relationships out of all our friends.”
Jake nodded. “Yeah, and the State refuses to let them marry, when regular, wholesome couples get divorced all the time.”
“There’s a movement to change that, though. I think they will be one of the first couples to marry when - IF - the law changes.”
“So you two never married - not each other - I mean ...”
“Fuck!” Billie nearly choked on the cold pizza crust he had stolen from Jake’s plate. “No, I never married - Jake just wishes he had never married ...”
“Long story, Jay. Kinda messy. It can wait for another day.”
“Fuck, yeah. You were still with her last album, weren’t you?”
“Clinging by a thread. She threw me out a week later.”
“Sometimes, my friend, I think we are better off alone.” Jay yawned noisily again, something he’d been doing for most of the evening. He’d curled up on his side on the sofa next to Billie as soon as he had finished eating, as relaxed here as he felt at home. “Time to get Cinderella back, I think.”
“Mmm?” Jay opened one eye, guessing Billie was referring to him, but without a clue about the reference.
“It’s a children’s story - she has to be home before midnight.”
“I’m fine. You two carry on, I’m awake ....”
“No. You’re out of it, and I am not carrying you to the car. It’s okay. We’ll have a late night tomorrow, so we could both do with getting to bed early tonight. Thanks for dinner, Jake. I never asked - are you bringing anyone tomorrow?”
“No. Not this time. I’m goin’ solo.”
“Jay’s my date tomorrow. If he can stay awake late enough ... “ The response was half snore, half mumble. “Come on, Cinders. Bed time.”
**
Saturday morning didn’t happen in the Armstrong household. Although he was pretty much fit and well again, Jay still tired easily after his knock on the head, and even though he had only been given light tasks at the studio, he was exhausted by the events of the week. Billie surprised himself, too, sleeping until almost noon despite one of the earliest bedtimes he’d had in years. He woke to a tap on his door, and he yelled ‘come in’, still trying to summon the motivation to sit up in bed. Jay peeped around the door for a second, then shambled into Billie’s bedroom, stretching and yawning. He was wearing just a pair of tight black trunks, and Billie had to stop himself staring at the unexpected expanse of naked flesh. Although street-slender from his time sleeping rough, Jay’s body had the appearance of someone who had, until relatively recently, looked after himself.
"Fuck, it's nearly afternoon, Jay. You should have woken me earlier. How's it going?"
"I'm good. I just wanted to know what time we were going and what I should wear."
"We've got a car coming for us at five, no way am I driving tonight. We wanna get there first to greet everybody, let the caterers in to set up the bar and sort out the music. Wear whatever you want. Jake and me'll be sorta casual, but some of the girlfriends will be dressed to kill. Anything goes, my friend."
" And I can have alcohol?"
"Absolutely. I'm gonna fix us some lunch before we go - never drink on an empty stomach, Jay. It gets way too messy too quick."
"i'm gonna take it easy. That beer thing at Mike's was kinda strong."
"That’s probably a good idea. Right, i am gonna fix that sandwich before I hit the shower. You coming down?"
“Yeah, sure. I’ll just throw on a robe or something. It’s kinda cold this morning.” Jay’s nipples bore testimony to that fact, and Billie blushed as he realised that he had actually noticed. He waited until Jay had disappeared into his own room, tugged on the old, baggy sweatsuit and went down to the kitchen.
Billie stared into the once-again empty refrigerator for inspiration, but when the door alarm started bleeping at him, he shunned its sparse contents and settled on preparing an old favourite. As a gesture to good nutrition, he placed the fruit bowl and a carton of juice on the counter, making the trip - barefoot - to the mailbox while the sandwiches slowly browned under the heat of the grill. The garden path was cold, damp and rough against his skin, and he sprinted back to the house to be greeted by the delicious aroma of toasted bread and brewing coffee - Jay had remembered the one thing that Billie had forgotten to do.
“So what’s for lunch?”
“This, my friend, is the taste of every American kid’s childhood. This is PBJ - peanut butter and jelly, the food of the gods. Mind, it gets very hot inside.” Billie served up the sandwiches and sat at the counter, quickly sorting the wad of envelopes into three piles - now, later and never. “I probably had this four times a week for school lunch, then I went for years without eating one. These days it’s my lonely-bachelor-can’t-be-fucked-to-cook meal of choice.”
Jay took a tentative bite, crunching through golden sourdough into creamy, fruity mush. “Wow. S’good. S’very good.”
“Another food to add to the list!” Billie slid his knife into the flap of one envelope from the ‘now’ pile. “Actually, have we found anything you don’t like so far?”
“Nope. Even that weird-smelling shit in the Chinese take-out.”
“Ah, the squid. Yeah, I can take or leave that, but Jake always orders it, just to piss me off, I think. Here, this one’s for you.”
“For me? Really?”
“I guess it’s from the doctor’s office. I got one too - the fucking invoice!” Jay unfolded the paper, tracing the words with a sticky finger to the bottom of the page, and Billie laughed softly. “I find this so fucking weird. You have no idea about so much, but you still know how to read.”
“Yeah, s’weird for me too. Here, you wanna read this? Looks like I’m gonna live.”
The singer took a huge bite of his sandwich before devouring the letter’s contents, spluttering his comments through a cloud of crumbs as the lava-like jelly scalded his mouth. “It’s all good, yeah. Shit, i think you’re healthier than I am!”
“The way things are turning out for me, I plan on living forever, Billie.”
**
In party mode, already noticeably tipsy, Billie yelled the names of a steady stream of people to a very bewildered Jay, who was still cuddling his first glass of champagne as if he was afraid that someone was going to take it from him. He was introduced to maybe a couple of dozen guests and their partners, before Billie was dragged away by a DJ from the local radio station, but rescued instantly from his abandoned state by Mike, a comfortingly familiar face in a sea of strangers. The music blasted Jay’s ears, and it was difficult to hear Mike’s soft voice, or Rudy’s even softer one, and after a few minutes, he politely made his excuses, retreating to a corner of the studio where the assault on his senses was not so intense. There, he drained his glass, exchanging it for a full one from a passing waiter, whilst his ears slowly become accustomed to the volume. He felt lost, out of place without Billie at his side, and he took a deep breath, venturing back into the throng to try and find either him or Jake to ask how he should go about getting that ride home.
The singer had been well and truly sideswiped, now deep in conversation with a man with impossibly blond hair and far too much eye make-up, black-tipped fingers clutched around Billie’s ink-adorned arm. Jay waited for a while, but when he didn’t look as if he was going to let go any time soon, he gave up hope of getting a word in edgeways. He moved on, looking for Jake until he found himself in the recording space, where some of the techs had gathered, a couple of them with guitars slung around their necks. Jay smiled nervously as he was beckoned to join them, and he gulped his second drink down in one, slammed the glass onto a table, took another and stepped into the midst of the huddle.
“Hey ...guys.” Lame, but half of the names had vaporised from Jay’s brain. “The music too loud for ya?”
One of the techs - the name Mac edged into Jay’s mind - explained, lengthening a guitar strap that was adjusted to fit around Billie’s tiny frame. “Setting up. Gonna play a bit later.”
“Cool.”
“It’s always on the agenda at one of these parties - sort of a tradition. Billie wants to try out a couple of the new songs tonight, see how they come across in a small venue. He usually does a few intimate shows before the tour starts. Do you play?”
Jay shrugged and tapped his forehead. “No idea. Memory ...”
“God, yes, sorry - I forgot. Still nothing, huh?”
“Nothing. I’m kinda used to it now.”
Another tech, tuning a bass guitar, added. “Maybe you should learn. Billie’s got that sweet home studio - you’re living with him, right?”
“Yeah. I got a fucking beautiful room, and he keeps giving me stuff. If I said I want to learn guitar, he’d buy me a fucking dozen. Actually .... ” Jay jerked his thumb towards the studio’s drum kit. “.. I think I’d like to have a go at those. Guitars look ... kinda fiddly.”
Mac laughed, loud enough to stop a few conversations close to the recording space door. “Fuck knows, that would be great. Billie could do with a decent drummer.”
“He’s got one, though - John?”
“Yeah. He’s a friend from back in the day. Billie uses him more out of loyalty than talent. The guy’s a jerk.”
“He’s a fucking joke.”
“Yeah, Jake did mention something about that.”
“Last tour he only confirmed a coupla days before we left. He fucked up every night for a week, then went walkabout in Germany. We had the cops looking for him, our security, everyone. Found him passed out in a bar.”
“Billie was fucking furious. He hasn’t turned up tonight, either. Looks like I’m gonna have to do the honours tonight.” The tech shook Jay’s clammy hand. “Kenny - drum tech - we’ve not met.”
“Hi. Jay - Jay Cool.”
“Yeah, I know. There’s been a lot of talk about you. Must be so fucken weird ...” Kenny tightened the final wing-nut on a cymbal and moved the stand a quarter of an inch to his left. “So do you wanna try these babies out?”
“Sure.” The champagne had finally started to work its magic, aided by the fact that Billie’s well-intentioned lunch was actually a long time ago and Jay was effectively drinking on an empty stomach. He stripped off his jacket and Kenny stood behind him as he settled on the stool, wrapping his fingers around the sticks. Mac pushed the door to shut out a little of the noise from the main room, and joined the crowd gathered around the would-be musician.
“Comfortable? Is that the right position for you? Yes? Okay, let’s see what you can do.”
**
The leather of the car’s back seat was cold enough to make Billie shiver, having sacrificed his jacket for Jay’s comfort. The smaller man mumbled his slurry thanks and leaned heavily against him, continuing the grinning-with-his-eyes-shut thing that he had been doing for the past hour, clutching the Best Live Act MTV Award to his chest like a mother with an infant.
“Here, let me take that.” Billie’s concern was justified - that trophy was a little on the pointy side and aimed straight at Jay’s throat. Blue eyes opened briefly, just to make sure that his pride and joy didn’t stray too far, closing them again when he was satisfied that Billie had placed it on the seat next to him. “You were fucking amazing.”
Jay snorfled - a snore and a grunt and a snigger rolled into one and repeated. “Fucking amazing ...”
“Fuck, how much champagne did you drink tonight?”
“Dunno. I remember five up to when we played and then there was all the award shit and the breads ...”
“Toasts ...”
“Toasts, yeah. I knew it had something to do with breakfast. Shit, I’m hungry. When do we eat?”
“Didn’t you have anything at the party? Jay, I told you about eating something when you have alcohol.” Billie giggled at the well-timed rumble coming from under Jay’s belt, loud enough to hear over the engine’s purr. “I’ll get you something at home, try and soak up some of that booze. Fuck, man, you’re a mess.”
“Yeah. Feel good though.”
“I fucking hope you still feel good in the morning.” The singer tucked the sliding jacket back under his chin and Jay snuggled down into it. Concern for his friend had sobered him up considerably, but Billie suspected the alcohol would come back to haunt him in the morning. “I mean it though, you were incredible. Jake’s right - with a bit of practice you really could tour with me in a couple of months. You picked it all up so fucking quick - you looked like you’d been drumming all your life. You’ve definitely done that before.”
“P’raps I have. Dunno. Are we nearly there yet? I’m starving.”
“Not long, promise. I was talking to Mac’s wife back there, she said she’s seen this before. It’s called muscle memory, when you haven’t done something for years and then it all comes back to you. Jay, it’s another clue to who you are ...”
“I’m Jay Cool, drummer ...” He hesitated as a hiccup erupted from his throat. “That’s who I want to be. Eggs. Can we have eggssss?”
“We can have eggs, yes.” Billie smiled to himself and let Jay snuggle in closer.
“Cool. I think I could eat about fifty ...”
**
The driver helped Billie carry a virtually comatose Jay to his room, holding him under his arms whilst Billie stripped him to his underwear, finally managing to get him into the bed, still with the silly grin plastered over his face. Billie placed the award on the nightstand, along with a couple of Jay’s pain pills and a bottle of water, tipping the driver generously before showing him out and making the house secure. A little before three, he collapsed into his own bed, making a mental note to find out about installing an elevator up to the bedrooms some time very soon.