Coffee and Cigarettes

"So, Mikey," I said as we sat on the swings at the local park. "Tell us about yourself. How old are you?"

"Seventeen," he said. "I work at the coffee shop to save some money for my college fund. Uh, I go to Belleville High--"

"You do?" Libby said, surprised. "We go there. How come we haven't seen you around?"

He shrugged. "I really don't know. Maybe because I'm a grade older than you?"

"Oh," Libby said whilst she pondered. "True."

"Anyways," he said with a grin. "I have an older brother who's an artist, his name is Gerard and he's twenty and in art school. He still comes by to visit on weekends, since he's just in New York."

"I don't grasp art very well," I confessed. "The most I can do is doodle and make stick drawings of cartoons that sometimes have no heads."

He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm not too good at art, either. Music's more my thing. I play bass," he said with a wide grin.

"I play piano," Libby said.

"I play nothing," I said glumly. "Music, for me, is something I listen to and appreciate. I can't play any instruments, but I like to write stories. I'm thinking of taking up journalism."

"Morgan's an amazing writer," Libby smiled. "She's got the highest mark in our entire Advanced English class."

"Libby," I sighed, "it's been two weeks."

"Doesn't matter, it's true!" Libby defended.

"Other than playing piano and writing stories, what do you like to do for fun?" Mikey asked.

"I make movies," Libby grinned. "And Morg stars in them."

"That's so cool!" Mikey said with a huge smile. "You have to show them to me sometime!"

"Why not now?" I asked. "Your parents aren't home--"

"Are they ever?" Libby smirked. "Yeah, let's just go. We might as well, it's getting chillier out and I want more tea."

"More tea?" Mikey asked quizzically. "Didn't we just come here from the cafe?"

"Libby loves her tea," I whispered to the confused boy. "She drinks chai at the cafe and green tea at home."

"Oh," he whispered back.

"Stop whispering so loudly, I can hear every word you're saying!" Libby hissed. "Come on, let's go."

We left the park and walked the small distance to Libby's house. She unlocked the door and let us in. Of course, her parents were at work, so we gathered in the family room in front of the TV and Libby popped in a DVD called, Music.

The short film Music showed a record being played in the beginning, and me along with several other subjects either tapping their fingers, headbanging softly, or closing their eyes, absorbing the sound. At the end of the film, the record stopped. I know it sounds kind of lame when I'm just describing it, but the visuals were amazing, and the way Libby worked the camera was legendary. The angles were fantastic, the filters were brilliant, and it was just...I don't know, amazing. There was no other word for it.

Mikey was watching intently. Once it had finished, he said quietly, "That was incredible."

"Thanks," Libby said, her cheeks going pink. "That's my favourite one."

Suddenly, Mikey's pants started to vibrate. I laughed out loud as he jumped slightly and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

"Hello?"

Libby and I sat in silence, waiting for him to be finished with the call.

"I'll be over soon," Mikey said, hanging up and putting his phone away. "I have to go," he said, sounding sort of sad. "I have band practice. Gerard apparently came down to visit just for today and he wants to get some practice in."

"You're in a band?" we asked in unison.

"How come you never told us?" Libby asked.

He shrugged. "I guess I forgot. But...you know, you could come and watch us practice. It'd be nice to play before an audience, no matter how small."

We grinned.

Off we went to Mikey's house where the practice would be held in his garage. We sauntered in and saw a tall, pale looking guy with long, scraggly black hair who was plopped down on a raggedy yellowish-brown couch that sat in the corner of the room. There was a drum kit and a few microphone stands, and a bass guitar.

The pale guy looked over at us. "Who are they, Mikey?"

"New friends," he replied nonchalantly. "Libby, Morgan, this is my older brother, Gerard. Gerard, Libby and Morgan."

"Charmed," he said with a toothy grin.

"Likewise," we answered.

"So, where are the other guys?" Mikey asked, looking around and seeing no one else but us.

"They're on their way, calm down," Gerard snickered.

Momentarily, a few more guys came strolling in. One had big, pouffy golden-brown hair, and he introduced himself as Ray.

Another had scruffy light brown hair and a bit of a goatee, and his name was Matt.

The last one was the one that caught my eye. His black hair was mid-length, and his hazel eyes pierced mine as soon as he walked into the room. A cigarette hung loosely in his mouth, and a guitar case was slung over one shoulder.

He glanced at Gerard and asked while motioning to Libby and myself, "Who are they?"

"Mikey's friends, Libby and Morgan," he responded. "They're going to watch us practice."

"Oh," was all he said. "I'm Frank."