Jumping Through Hoops pt. 3

The Next Morning
Abbey woke up at 5 in the morning. She was having weird dreams again and so she decided to slip out and have a smoke before heading back to bed. She stepped out on to the balcony and lit her Doral. She inhaled deeply, taking in her surroundings. The sky was a mural of blues, pinks and purple as the California sun began to rise.

Later

The San Francisco Chronicle Office

Abbey once again sat anxiously in a lumpy waiting room chair, before being lead to the editor's office by the uber-sweet secretary. I slowly walked into the dark, smokey office and sat in the chair across from his desk.
"So, tell me who did you have in mind for future interviews?" Mr. Martin asked without hesitation, his cigar bouncing as his fat lips moved.
"Well, I'd have to say my number one choice would be Green Day, but even more so I'd like to interview Tre Cool," I announced with determination.
"Tre Cool?" he inquired carelessly.

"He's the drummer of Green Day," I informed him trying to hide my feelings of idiocy for him.
"The drummer? Most journalists want to interview the front man," he replied, coughing with laughter.
"I'm not most journalists," I told him a bit arrogantly.
"He's a bit unknown," he said as if he wanted to discourage me.
"I know," I sighed, "and I think it's sad."
"He's about 45 now isn't he?" he asked me with contempt.
"Yes, but I don't believe that's old, he's funny, he's entertaining and he's an amazing drummer, people would love him," I responded a bit defensively. His face was thoughtful for a moment.

"Well, you believe you're pretty good, don't you?" he asked me while ashing his repulsive smelling cigar.
"I'd like to think so," I replied coolly.
"I'll tell you what, you want to interview Tre Cool, that's you're first assignment," he told as he began scrolling through a card catalog of numbers. I wanted to shriek.

"Here's their agent's number, I want the article on my desk this time, two weeks from now, if you write well enough maybe you could get the front page," he informed handing me a note card with a phone number.
"I won't let you down," I promised happily.
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, shooing me, "I hope not."

At the Hotel

I stepped in the room and shrieked happily.
"Babe, what is it?" Travis asked with a shocked look on his face.
"My first assignment is Tre Cool," I yelled jumping up and down happily.
"That's amazing!" Travis exclaimed now jumping with me.
"I know," I replied, "I have their manager's number in my bag right now!"
"We have to celebrate!" Travis remarked, "call your brother and ask him if he knows any good restaurants around here."

I called my brother and he suggested a steak house a few miles away. The steak was delicious. The bill was not pretty though.

When we got back to the hotel, I was tired and walking gave me a cramp in my side.
"Too much steak!" I cried flopping on the bed.
"So, when are you going to call their manager?" Travis asked unstrapping Jacob from his car seat.
"I think tomorrow, I don't want to seem too eager," I laughed.

The Next Day

Abbey sat at the balcony with the phone in one hand and the note card in the other. Her palms soaked the phone to the point to where it was slippery. Finally, she forced herself to dial the number and put the phone to her ear. It rang a few times before a man with a cool voice answered.

"Hi, is this the manager for the band Green Day?" I asked forcing my voice from my stomach.
"Yes, this is him speaking, can I help you with something?" he asked calmly.
"My name is Abbey Fr... Needham," I told him, I was going to change my name when I married but my sisters had talked me into become a hyphenate, I hated my real last name, "I'm an interviewer for the San Francisco Chronicle, I was hoping to arrange an interview with Tre Cool." He made 'T'sk,' sound, that annoyed me for reasons I couldn't identify.
"Unfortunately, that isn't possible right now," he informed me, "they've been doing some heavy touring and they're taking a break from the public eye for awhile." I was crushed.

"Oh, really," I said my voice breaking, "that is unfortunate."
I hung up the phone and went inside to tell Travis the terrible news. 'There goes my career in journalism,' I thought as depression seized me.

Three Days Later

I hadn't gotten out of bed much in the last few days. I had basically just existed, helping with the kids whenever needed but other than that... Useless. Travis kept reminding me I had a deadline and that I should try to figure something else out.

He constantly tried to cheer me up and tell me everything would be okay but I felt hopeless. It was early in the morning and I was afraid to open my eyes to see the chaos that had ensued. Jacob shrieked and Travis pleaded him to shut up.

I opened my eyes. The floor was littered with imported beers, expensive snacks, and worst of all, a dozen empty cookie wrappers labeled $3.00.
"I have got to get out of here for a while," I cried slipping on my flip-flops and leaving the hotel, slamming the door behind me. Inside Pandora screamed, "I knew moving hewe was bad, mommy!"

I trudged down the street, wanting to punch something. I looked down at my feet and realized how badly I was dressed. I was wearing a black band-tee, 8 year old Play Station pajama bottoms and ratty old flip-flops. I also acknowledged that my hair was probably a terrible mess. 'Fuck it," I thought carelessly.

I located a Starbucks and walked in. The place was decently empty and I felt relief... Momentarily. There at a table near the front sat Tre Cool and Mike Dirnt! Tre sat pouring tons of sugar in his coffee, as Mike looked at him in amusement. 'God, has brought me here for a reason,' I thought hopefully. I then realized that I looked terrible. I ran quickly to the bathroom to fix my hair.

Once inside, I wet my hair down and squished it to the sides of my head. Hardly satisfied, I decided it was good enough. I stepped out. He was no where to be seen... 'Crushed once again,' I thought falling back into a seat.

"Excuse me," the cashier said, "can I get you something? If not, I'll have to ask you to leave."
"Just leave me alone," I sighed, "my career just walked out the door." Suddenly, Tre burst in the door and ran to the counter.
"Need more sugar!" he demanded ecstatically. I was awestruck hearing his voice in person. He ran back out the door, sugar in hand. I sat a moment before I mentally slapping myself because opportunity was passing me by. I ran after him.

I saw him approaching Mike's car and wondered how I should call after him.
"Tre," I yelled, not knowing what else to call him. He turned slowly. Even with the distance between us, I could see that obsessive fan girl fear in his eyes. I walked up to him, my heart pounding.
"I'm Abbey, I work for the San Francisco Chronicle, well, I just got the job and... You're my first assignment," I blurted.

"I'm on break right now, I'm not doing interviews, right now," he said staring at his sugar packets impatiently, "besides don't you want to just interview Billie?"
"No, I just wanted to interview you," I said sadly, "I thought it would be interesting. I have a deadline." He stared at my face, searching for any unsavory motives. My eyes burned from the tears I held back.

"I'll tell you what," he began, "I'm going to give you a chance to convince me." Hope sparked.
"How so?" I asked with confusion.
"I'm going to decide whether or not you're cool enough for an exception," he said mischievously.
"How will you decide that?" I inquired cautiously.
"I'm going to let you hang out with me," he announced with a queer smirk.

"That. Is. Awesome." I gasped. He laughed to himself.
"I'm free tomorrow, actually," he replied handing me his card, "Call me, and wear something other than your PJ's but this will be off the record." I watched him walk to Mike's car and hop in. I looked down at his card.

'The Amazing Tre Cool'

I stifled a laugh. This day was so not as terrible as originally thought! I headed back to the hotel, skipping a bit on the way, my flip-flop, flipping and flopping a bit like my heart. For a moment I felt a twinge of my teenage crush for him.