(For KrissiJones !! I hope you enjoy! Man, it's been awhile since I've written about BJ... Kinda miss it, btw I have a new story in the works if you're interested :) it'll be a long while until it comes out but I'm excited for it. It's more educational but interesting about all your favorites. Enjoy :))
||Krissi's POV||
I pulled my short skirt down after I stepped out of my car. I hated this. If I wasn't getting paid good for this, I'd be wearing ripped jeans and a tee shirt right now.
I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my peacoat, checking the time, making sure I wasn't late and wasn't too early.
Being a interviewer had its advantages and disadvantages. Sometimes the clients were really cool and will do anything to make sure you get the best story possible. Other times they were hard and really didn't give a shit about what was being asked or what it meant to your paycheck. That's the part of this job I hated, and I had a feeling it might be this way tonight.
Billie Joe Armstrong was a punk, who didn't care what people thought about him or his reputation. His band Green Day, had just released their '21st Century Breakdown' album and people were king insane over them. It wasn't surprising though, Green Day was amazing. I was a fan myself. Just the way people made them sound, it freaked me out a bit.
Sure, out of the work world, I was a punk too. Rock n roll was my life style and I lived it, but during work hours, I was married with two kids and a loving husband, even though all of that was a lie.
I slowly stepped into the street and started walking to the doors of the bar I was told to meet Billie Joe for the interview. I stumbled a few times, not knowing how to really walk in heels correctly.
It was sprinkling a bit outside and all the Oaktown looked dead, but what's new.
I stepped inside the bar, watching a few people turn to look at me before continuing on what they had before. I was the odd one out in a place like this in these clothes but oh well. I had a job to do which didn't include drinking until I passed out.
Searching through the bar, I noticed a fluffy-haired man sitting at a huge booth at the back end of the bar, alone drinking. It was him.
I wasn't nervous, I had done this before, but something about the way he seemed to be stressed me out a bit. I hated having to make up stories but when these guys couldn't cooperate, there was nothing more I could do. Like how do you think the Mama Cass chocking on a ham sandwich Coke to be?
I walked at an even pace to the back of the bar, letting my wavy hair bounce behind me. Even with a skirt on, I dress as comfortable and me as possible, meaning my shirt and the rest of my seemed a bit dark. I liked it like that.
As I got closer to the rock god, I watched him notice me and smirk, staring me up and down as I stopped in front of the table.
"Mr. Armstrong, I'm Krissi Hawk and I'll be conducting your interviews for these next couple of weeks," I start professionally, holding out a hand for him to shake but he just held that stupid smirk on his face and ignored it.
"Alright," I murmured, clearing my throat, before sitting down on the opposite side of the booth and pulled out a tape recorder turning it on. "How was your childhood, Mr. Armstrong?"
"Why does it matter?" He sassed, taking a drag of a cigarette which looked super intriguing. "People should care more about the music than anything."
"Why do you say that?"
"It's an opinion, again people should care about other thing than myself... But I wanted to know some things as well.." He slurred, not drunkenly but seducingly.
"Do you have any questions about these interviews, Mr. Armstrong?" I muttered, getting a little mad already. This guy didn't understand the reasoning for this. The was completely right but most other people didn't see it that way. You gotta do what you gotta do.
"No, nothing about the interview, but the interviewer," he purred, leaning closer to the middle of the table that separated me from him.
"As a professional, I can't do that Mr. Armstrong," I answered, right as the waitress came over and I ordered a Jack and Coke. After the way this seems to be going I needed a drink.
"Three things Krissi. One, impressed that such a pristine girl in disguise would order such a hard drink. Two, don't call me Mr. Armstrong, he's gone. My name is Billie. And three, professional isn't in my vocabulary," he finished with a sexy smile, that actually made my heart beat.
It was strange but I liked it. I reached over to my tape recorder and pressed the stop button, taking off my coat, leaving me in a punk muscle shirt which surprised him.
"Call me pristine again 'Billie Joe'," I tried, putting emphasis on his name. I could Wikipedia this interview, for he was not answering the questions and I didn't seem like giving them. It's a wonder I hadn't gotten fired yet.
I leaned closer to the table as he had, but staring deep into his eyes this time, trying to beat him in his own game. If he thought he could go through the whole interview giving me looks and flirting with me, I'd give him a taste of his own medicine.
"You're not gonna win," he stated, after a while of talking about random shit and flirting. It was harmless flirting right? Like it would never mean anything.
"Always do and this isn't the end of my streak," I said, taking a sip of the hard liquor that I was so used to. "Don't you have a wife Billie Joe?"
"Not anymore, sweetheart," he breathed out.
"Well I'm sorry to hear that Mr. Armstrong," I stated, writing a note down on a napkin.
"You're kidding me," he scoffed, referring to me writing that down.
"Is this not something you want the world to know?" I smirked, setting down my pen before completing the thought.
"I'd prefer it not to be."
"Well then, I might need to you convince me," I said innocently, taking a slow sip of my drink.
I didn't know what I was thinking. But I wish I would've known what would happen later. Sleeping with a rockstar and dating him sure wasn't on my list for that day but it happens.
(Alrighty, yeah idk I tried, happy Easter btw to you all! I hope you all have a good day :))
