And You Can't Tell Anyone, chapter 27
*Mike*
He sat down on the steps outside the school, watching and waiting. Mike smiled to himself as Billie Joe hustled by. Trying to be sneaky. I'm sorry, but he just can't pull that off. You'd think for a little guy he'd be good at it. Then again, me being a tall dude should make me bad at sneaking. Wonder where he's going? A smile curved Mike's lips as he watched the red car drive off. I think I know a certain restaurant where a certain girl works. It's probably...certain that she's got the noon hour off. And if she doesn't, then I think Billie Joe's going out for lunch.
"Psst. Hey you." Mike looked around. He scowled as he recognized that buff guy from the bar. He was peering around the corner of the school. "Come over here."
He must think I'm stupid or something. I'm not going anywhere.
"C'mon! Please, trust me. I swear to God I won't do nothing. This is important."
Cautiously, Mike rose and went over to the tough looking guy. He was leaning heavily on a cane. It appeared he was in no condition to fight. Mike crossed his arms. "What do you want?"
"I got this for you." The guy shoved a rectangular package into Mike's hands. "Do what you want with it. Next time, if you want to put the Latertons in their place, send someone who can pay better attention to the job at hand." With that cryptic comment, he hobbled off.
Quite confused, Mike settled down on one the stone benches outside the school. It was a nice little corner right there, what with the trees providing a little shade and all. With this weather though, the shade was not necessarily appreciated. As another benefit the alcove boasted was its seclusion. Even the most careful watcher would have been hard pressed to notice anyone there unless they came fairly close.
He took the package and removed its brown paper wrapping. Inside was nothing more than a VHS tape. On a bit of masking tape was written Pool Camera One, 10. 28. AM Tape.
Pool camera? Is this a tape of Tré falling in the pool? This is incriminating evidence? Why on earth would-- He frowned as he remembered the man's words. 'If you want to put the Latertons in their place...' Was this just one big double cross? Or did the big guy actually want to help? Mike could only shake his head. All he knew was that this tape needed to be set to the torch and destroyed. Quickly, he wrapped it back up, just in case Mirabelle or someone unfriendly to his cause came by.
Stuffing the package under his leg, Mike idly, and a bit furtively, started moving his fingers along to the bass line that popped into his head. Dirnt dirnt dirnt d-dirnt dirnt dirnt dirnt d-d-dirnt dirnt dirnt dirnt dirnt dirnt He ceased as a shadow fell across his knees.
"Wassup?" Tré asked.
"Nothing, just waiting here."
"What for?" Mike simply looked at Tré. The drummer groaned and plopped down on the bench. A little flash of heat sparked where his hand brushed Mike's knee. Nervously, Mike shifted away a bit. "You're waiting for your girl then?"
"Yeah."
"Might be a while, she got hauled to the office. And no, I don't know why."
"How long ago was that?" Mike asked curiously.
Tré scratched his chin. "Um. I don't know not too long. Just at the end of class pretty much." He looked skyward and shook his head. "Fuck I hate that Mirabelle. Stupid girl, I tell yah."
"You ran into her again?"
"Not really. More like she ran into Wren at Wren's locker. The whole," he shifted his voice into a ridiculous falsetto, "'What a coincidence, imagine us running into each other right here, at your locker. By the way I have to annoy the hell out of you.'" Tré smiled, "Since you weren't around, I did came over and did the menacing guy friend thing. She just couldn't take the heat. I'm scorching baby!" He licked his finger and tapped it on his ass, making a hissing sound to imitate steam. "Yep. Wren left to go to the office and seeing as how she just could not stand up to fiery old me, Mirabelle fucked off. She should do that more often." His eyes darted to Mike's thigh, from under which was sticking some brown paper. "What's that?"
Before Mike could reply the drummer braced one hand on Mike's leg and used the other to wrench the package out. Where by accident or design, Tré's finger slipped down to Mike's inner thigh. Mike clenched his teeth as he fought to stop his body from responding. Seemingly oblivious, Tré started unwrapping the tape. He shot Mike a mischievous glance out of the corner of his eye. That stupid idiot. He knows exactly what he's doing.
Tré held up the tape and looked at it critically. "So we have the mystery of how I got out of the pool right in our hands." He tossed it to Mike, "Strangely enough, I don't care."
"Well, we have to destroy it."
"How'd you get it in the first place?" Tré queried.
"That dude I 'fought' with was hanging around and gave it to me." Mike shrugged, "Beats me why he'd do that, since he's supposed to be on the other side."
"Hey, his loss is our gain." Tré sighed and slouched down on the bench. "What are you going to do about this baby thing? It's wicked and all, but I don't know if I'm cut out to be an uncle."
Mike patted the drummer on the shoulder. "Don't worry you'll do fine." There that was not a sexual thing, was it? No. It wasn't. But why the hell do I keep thinking dirty shit then?
Tré smirked to himself and muttered, "Uncle." He kept quiet to ponder the implications before starting to twitch his knee. "Fuck. They must be giving her a ripping if it's taking this long."
Mike looked at his watch. "It's only been five minutes. You know how all that shit works; they keep you sitting there for a while before they actually talk to you. She's probably still waiting."
"Well, now I'm bored. Let's do something!"
"There's nothing to do. Bill took the car. We just have to wait." Mike looked over to see Tré watching him speculatively. Feeling his blood heat, the bassist growled, "I know what you're doing. So stop it. I'm not going to cheat on her."
"Who said anything about cheating? I was just sitting here. If it's on your mind, I can always take it out of your system," he added playfully. From the look in his large eyes, Mike knew the drummer was more than half-serious.
Frustrated at feeling the pull of temptation, Mike shook his head. "Fuck it Tré. Seriously. I hate all this. It's like I'm being pulled in all different directions and I'm sick of it. We are friends. As long as I'm with Wren, that's all we'll ever be."
Tré looked down at his shoes and nodded. "'Kay. I get it. As long as you're with her, you're off limits. You're Mr. Commitment now. And you should be." He mumbled, "You're a good guy Mike. Better'n me anyhow. Sorry about all this."
"Yeah. I'm kinda sorry about all this too," Mike confessed. "I kind've been leading you on. It's all fucked up crazy shit."
Tré stuck out his hand. "Friends?"
Mike accepted it. "Friends."
He sat down on the steps outside the school, watching and waiting. Mike smiled to himself as Billie Joe hustled by. Trying to be sneaky. I'm sorry, but he just can't pull that off. You'd think for a little guy he'd be good at it. Then again, me being a tall dude should make me bad at sneaking. Wonder where he's going? A smile curved Mike's lips as he watched the red car drive off. I think I know a certain restaurant where a certain girl works. It's probably...certain that she's got the noon hour off. And if she doesn't, then I think Billie Joe's going out for lunch.
"Psst. Hey you." Mike looked around. He scowled as he recognized that buff guy from the bar. He was peering around the corner of the school. "Come over here."
He must think I'm stupid or something. I'm not going anywhere.
"C'mon! Please, trust me. I swear to God I won't do nothing. This is important."
Cautiously, Mike rose and went over to the tough looking guy. He was leaning heavily on a cane. It appeared he was in no condition to fight. Mike crossed his arms. "What do you want?"
"I got this for you." The guy shoved a rectangular package into Mike's hands. "Do what you want with it. Next time, if you want to put the Latertons in their place, send someone who can pay better attention to the job at hand." With that cryptic comment, he hobbled off.
Quite confused, Mike settled down on one the stone benches outside the school. It was a nice little corner right there, what with the trees providing a little shade and all. With this weather though, the shade was not necessarily appreciated. As another benefit the alcove boasted was its seclusion. Even the most careful watcher would have been hard pressed to notice anyone there unless they came fairly close.
He took the package and removed its brown paper wrapping. Inside was nothing more than a VHS tape. On a bit of masking tape was written Pool Camera One, 10. 28. AM Tape.
Pool camera? Is this a tape of Tré falling in the pool? This is incriminating evidence? Why on earth would-- He frowned as he remembered the man's words. 'If you want to put the Latertons in their place...' Was this just one big double cross? Or did the big guy actually want to help? Mike could only shake his head. All he knew was that this tape needed to be set to the torch and destroyed. Quickly, he wrapped it back up, just in case Mirabelle or someone unfriendly to his cause came by.
Stuffing the package under his leg, Mike idly, and a bit furtively, started moving his fingers along to the bass line that popped into his head. Dirnt dirnt dirnt d-dirnt dirnt dirnt dirnt d-d-dirnt dirnt dirnt dirnt dirnt dirnt He ceased as a shadow fell across his knees.
"Wassup?" Tré asked.
"Nothing, just waiting here."
"What for?" Mike simply looked at Tré. The drummer groaned and plopped down on the bench. A little flash of heat sparked where his hand brushed Mike's knee. Nervously, Mike shifted away a bit. "You're waiting for your girl then?"
"Yeah."
"Might be a while, she got hauled to the office. And no, I don't know why."
"How long ago was that?" Mike asked curiously.
Tré scratched his chin. "Um. I don't know not too long. Just at the end of class pretty much." He looked skyward and shook his head. "Fuck I hate that Mirabelle. Stupid girl, I tell yah."
"You ran into her again?"
"Not really. More like she ran into Wren at Wren's locker. The whole," he shifted his voice into a ridiculous falsetto, "'What a coincidence, imagine us running into each other right here, at your locker. By the way I have to annoy the hell out of you.'" Tré smiled, "Since you weren't around, I did came over and did the menacing guy friend thing. She just couldn't take the heat. I'm scorching baby!" He licked his finger and tapped it on his ass, making a hissing sound to imitate steam. "Yep. Wren left to go to the office and seeing as how she just could not stand up to fiery old me, Mirabelle fucked off. She should do that more often." His eyes darted to Mike's thigh, from under which was sticking some brown paper. "What's that?"
Before Mike could reply the drummer braced one hand on Mike's leg and used the other to wrench the package out. Where by accident or design, Tré's finger slipped down to Mike's inner thigh. Mike clenched his teeth as he fought to stop his body from responding. Seemingly oblivious, Tré started unwrapping the tape. He shot Mike a mischievous glance out of the corner of his eye. That stupid idiot. He knows exactly what he's doing.
Tré held up the tape and looked at it critically. "So we have the mystery of how I got out of the pool right in our hands." He tossed it to Mike, "Strangely enough, I don't care."
"Well, we have to destroy it."
"How'd you get it in the first place?" Tré queried.
"That dude I 'fought' with was hanging around and gave it to me." Mike shrugged, "Beats me why he'd do that, since he's supposed to be on the other side."
"Hey, his loss is our gain." Tré sighed and slouched down on the bench. "What are you going to do about this baby thing? It's wicked and all, but I don't know if I'm cut out to be an uncle."
Mike patted the drummer on the shoulder. "Don't worry you'll do fine." There that was not a sexual thing, was it? No. It wasn't. But why the hell do I keep thinking dirty shit then?
Tré smirked to himself and muttered, "Uncle." He kept quiet to ponder the implications before starting to twitch his knee. "Fuck. They must be giving her a ripping if it's taking this long."
Mike looked at his watch. "It's only been five minutes. You know how all that shit works; they keep you sitting there for a while before they actually talk to you. She's probably still waiting."
"Well, now I'm bored. Let's do something!"
"There's nothing to do. Bill took the car. We just have to wait." Mike looked over to see Tré watching him speculatively. Feeling his blood heat, the bassist growled, "I know what you're doing. So stop it. I'm not going to cheat on her."
"Who said anything about cheating? I was just sitting here. If it's on your mind, I can always take it out of your system," he added playfully. From the look in his large eyes, Mike knew the drummer was more than half-serious.
Frustrated at feeling the pull of temptation, Mike shook his head. "Fuck it Tré. Seriously. I hate all this. It's like I'm being pulled in all different directions and I'm sick of it. We are friends. As long as I'm with Wren, that's all we'll ever be."
Tré looked down at his shoes and nodded. "'Kay. I get it. As long as you're with her, you're off limits. You're Mr. Commitment now. And you should be." He mumbled, "You're a good guy Mike. Better'n me anyhow. Sorry about all this."
"Yeah. I'm kinda sorry about all this too," Mike confessed. "I kind've been leading you on. It's all fucked up crazy shit."
Tré stuck out his hand. "Friends?"
Mike accepted it. "Friends."
