Billy walked into the room, obviously trying to hide the fact that he had been MIA for the past couple of hours. We'd been to New York a million times, but he was never out of the hotel too long. If he was, he was always hanging out with us, and we were always hanging out with Tommie and the boys. Not on this trip, though. We were flying solo.

Tommie, short for Tomorrow. Her parents were former hippies, now rich semi-hippies, hence the name: Tomorrow. Tommie wasn't a hippie, never was, and never acted like one. She was what some would call punk, but she acted emo and looked indie. I hate labeling her, she's so above labeling. Hell, what could you even label a girl like Tommie?

I don't know how Tommie would be labeled, even though Joel and I talked about it a lot. He always said she was perfect and labeled her that. He loved her, and I couldn't have been happier for my brother. She was a great girl.

A great girl with an awesome band. When I say awesome, I mean it. I worshiped The Series. That's the band, The Series. I grew up going to their shows, but it's not like they were as old as Rancid or anything, they were just young and good. Tommie was actually two years younger than everyone in the band, but only one year older than Joel and me.

She was smart. Passed two grades, graduated at 16, graduated from college while she was touring the world. That's how she got in with her band. They needed a back up singer and guitarist, so this beautiful, shy, young thing in the back of the class room got up all her nerve and asked the lead singer, Ryan, if she could get in. I've heard the story a thousand times. Joel never seems to get tired off talking about his Tommie.

Billy was the first to meet Tommie. He became quick friends with her brother, who then introduced him to her, and in turn her to us. Billy and Tommie were close; she only trusted him with her tattoos. She only had three, but I have to say that they looked better than any tattoo I have ever seen.

But I haven't seen Tommie in a long time. A couple of months at least. She broke up with Joel, no one knew why. Not even her brother. No one. She was secretive, told her friends everything, and told Joel even more than that. She didn't tell her band, but she told other friends who held the same secrecy. The reason is still locked away, and I can tell it eats at Joel everyday.

Anyway, Billy walked in the door and we gave him some slice of hell for being gone. He wouldn't tell us where he had gone, who he had been with, or what he had done.

"Where've you been, Billy boy?" I said, punching him in the arm repeatedly.

He dropped his bag on the floor and sat on the couch. "Nowhere, man, leave me alone." He shrugged me off. Something was going on.

"Aww, did Billy boy get his very own chick?" Joel sat laid down on the floor a couple feet from the couch. He forced a smile. Joel wanted a chick, well, he wanted his chick back.

"Can you guys just leave me alone? I've been out, why is that so hard to comprehend. I've got a life, too." He snarled and walked out of the living room in the suite into one of the two bed rooms.

"Let's search his bag for clues, Benj!" Joel put on his best Sherlock Holmes accent and face. He crawled over to the red backpack that laid on the floor.

Paul let out an exasperated sigh when Joel and I started to unzip the bag. "Don't mess with his stuff, guys. If he wanted you to know, he'd tell you." He looked at us with his wise eyes. "He'll tell you soon, I'm sure. Control yourselves."

"But the suspense is killing me!" I tore open the bag, only to find his tattoo supplies. He gave someone a tattoo. Why didn't he tell us? It's a tattoo, right, big deal.

Joel's look of puzzlement faded as he realized why Billy didn't tell us. Billy took polaroids of all the tattoos he had given. He had pictures of mine, Joel's, Pauls and tons others. Billy was an artist, what could I say? In Joel's hand was a polaroid of Tommie's newest tattoo. Saddness immediatly clouded his eyes.

"God." He breathed, almost taking the air out of the room. Paul put his book down and buried his head in his hands.

"I told you guys not to look in there." Paul was right. Pandora's box? Pandora's backpack.

He sat down cross legged on the floor, still fixed on the picture. "She always told me about how she wanted a tattoo like that." A little black star rested a little off the corner of her left eye. Her black hair was pushed from her tan skin, just to show the little star which looked great with her green eyes.

"Why'd you do that, Joel?" Billy asked from the doorway.

He turned around, hurt. "Me? You chose her over me."

Billy advanced towards Joel, snatching the picture from his hands. "I didn't chose anyone. I am friends with her brother, her, and you. Don't you make me choose, Joel. That's a shitty thing to do." His passive stance towards life just flew out the window. "There is nothing wrong with Tommie. She's a great girl."

Joel's brown eyes grew large and he stood up, getting right in Billy's face. "Fuck no! Don't tell me you're in love with her! Don't you do that." Tears built up in his eyes, his voice quavered. Tommie was his, they were supposed to be together.

"No. I love her, I love her like a sister. She's my best friend, and let me say this: she's a better friend than you at some points. She never made me choose when you guys broke up, she never forbid me to hang out with you, she never pumped me for information, she never acted like an ass. You need to move on. Tommie has, she's doing great."

"What do you want me to say, Billy?"

"Nothing, Joel. Not a damn thing. Just grow up, and get over it. Figure out some way that you can live with me being friends with Tommie and me being in this band or else you know what's going to happen."

No. No. No. Paul and I stood up to this last comment. We lost Aaron, bands survive one band member leaving, like a drummer. Bands can't survive drummer and guitarist abandonment. It'd be the end of Good Charlotte if we ever lost Billy. It'd also be so shameful if we lost Billy because of a girl.

However, if it had to be any girl, I was glad it'd be Tommie. Something to write home about.

Joel grabbed his coat from the arm of the chair and walked out of the room. I grabbed mine and followed. He had to fix this.