The Innocent Can Never Last

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Billie's POV

The next morning when I woke up, I found myself feeling very nauseous and achy, and unable to remember most of what had gone on the night before. I could remember something about Elvis and getting into an argument with Mike over something that now seemed really stupid, but apart from that, everything was just a blur.

I moaned, realizing that I would have to call Mike and make up with him...later. He was at school right now. It was eleven-thirty in the morning. I wanted to make things up with Emma, too, but I was too afraid to call her. She'd probably chew me out really bad, and then I'd get all upset again...blah, blah, blah...
With a groan, I pulled myself out of bed, threw on some clothes, and headed downstairs to find some aspirin for my head. Upon entering the kitchen, I found Tre sitting at the table by himself, staring blankly at a mug of coffee that was sitting in front of him. I grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from the cupboard and dumped a few pills right into my mouth, before walking over to the sink and sticking my mouth up to the faucet to take a drink.

After swallowing the pills, I walked over to the table and sat down next to Tre. There was a long, sleepy silence, until Tre finally said, slowly and carefully, "I have to go meet my friend for lunch at twelve-thirty, do you wanna come?"
"What's his name?" I asked, as if that made a difference.
"His name's Larry. We used to be in a band together, and now he owns some little record label..." Tre said.
"He owns a record label?" I asked, instantly becoming interested. "Do you think he would sign my band?"
"Hmm...probably. You play his kind of music," Tre answered.
"Yeah, I'll go," I said.
"Cool," Tre replied, getting slowly to his feet. "I need to go get dressed. Meet me back here in fifteen minutes."
"Sounds good," I said, getting up and rushing up the stairs to my bedroom.

Upon reaching my room, I opened my dresser and pulled out some clean clothes, which I quickly changed into, before spraying myself with some strange cologne that I had found under the bed the day I had moved in. I mussed up my hair a bit with some gel, before throwing on a pair of shoes. I grabbed a couple of Sweet Children's demo tapes out of my dresser, and then I turned and bounded out of the room and down the stairs, where I met Tre in the kitchen once more. We quickly left through the back door and headed out to Tre's car, which was an ugly brown station wagon that smelled oddly of girly perfume and cooked cabbage.

Nonetheless, we both hopped into the car, and Tre drove us out of the parking lot and down the road. "So...what's the name of this guy's label, would I know it?" I asked, after several minutes of silence. {Both of us were still pretty hungover.}

"It's called Lookout! Records, and it's an independent label, so you probably wouldn't know it. It's fairly new, but I bet Larry'll be willing to sign your band," Tre said.
"I don't care who signs us, I just want to get signed so that we can start playing gigs and make a real record," I said.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Tre replied, as he pulled his car into the parking lot of a small diner. The parking lot was deserted except for a single black, 1978 Corvette, which was parked in the middle of the lot. Tre laughed a bit, and parked his car right next to it.

We both got out, at the same time as the driver of the Corvette got out of his car and lowered his sunglasses, an amused grin on his face. "You still driving that piece of tin, Cool?" he said to Tre.
Tre grinned, and said, "You know, Larry, you were always way too judgemental about other people's belongings. I see that hasn't changed."
Larry grinned at Tre, and suddenly, they both threw their arms around each other and started laughing. "It's been forever, man!" Larry exclaimed.
"Yeah, I know. We need to work on staying in touch better," Tre replied.
Larry pulled away from Tre, and began to focus on me instead. "Who's your friend?" he asked Tre.
"Oh, this is Billie Joe Armstrong," Tre said. "He just moved here from Rodeo a few weeks ago."
"Nice to meet you, Billie, I'm Larry Livermore," Larry said, holding out his hand for me to shake.