Our Little Secret

"Hey, Tre, thanks for helping us out again today. We owe you."

"And I'll be sure to collect soon enough," he informed them.

Billie laughed, knowing that despite Tre's serious face, he was just joking. Probably. "Hey, where do you guys wanna start. I was thinking that we should work on that goddamn bridge again. I know we had it yesterday, but I think if we work on it some more today, we'll be able to have it down pat."

"Works for me," Mike said. Even if he had wanted to argue, he knew it wouldn't have done any good.

"Hey, guys," a voice called from outside, "What the hell is going on? And who the hell is that?"

All three of them turned to look at him. "What the hell do you think is going on?" Billie asked angrily, stepping towards the slightly older man. "We are practicing. I don't know what you are doing. I thought you were busy studying for some stupid test."

"I got some free time and figured I'd come help out my band, but I guess that won't be necessary anymore, huh?" The guy walked right up to Billie and got in his face. "Now, who the fuck is that?" he asked, pointing to Tre.

Billie just raised his eyebrows at the man's attempt to intimidate him. "That's Tre. He's helping us out while you're off doing more 'important' things. Tre," he addressed, "This is John. He's supposed to be our drummer, not that he really ever is."

Tre just nodded. He didn't want to get in between the two of them. It looked like they hated each other's guts. It had to be hard to manage a band like that.

"Okay, smartass, what the hell is he doing here?"

"He's filling in for our asshole of a drummer. We had to practice somehow, and he was available. Maybe if you weren't always canceling—"

"Billie, I have college! That's more important than some fucking band. I mean, it's fun and all, but ten years from now, it's not going to make any difference if I cancel a couple times. Hell, ten years from now, we won't even be in a band. When the hell are you going to grow up and realize this isn't as important as you're making it?"

Mike could swear he saw his friend's ears turn red. He put his arm around Tre lightly pushed him in the direction of the door. "Maybe we should go inside and leave them alone out here."

Tre nodded slowly and walked into the house with Mike, and Mike shut the door behind them.

"Do they always argue like that?"

"Nine times out of ten. Like I told you, they're on opposite sides of the spectrum when it comes to how important our band is. Billie thinks it's his entire world." He stopped, realizing that wasn't quite right. "No, it is his entire world. But to John, it's just some silly hobby. He doesn't really care about it. That's what they always seem to be fighting over—not just the band, more the importance of it. It's hard to get anything done when they're always arguing like that."

"Then why bother? I mean, if it's so important to you guys, and he doesn't care, then why work with him?"

"Well, for one thing, he's too full of himself to quit after all the work he's put in. And we can't just kick him out 'cause there's no one to replace him. Billie would definitely jump at the chance to get rid of him—so would I—but we just can't."

"Well, I'm sure if you guys tried, you could find someone to work with, even just a temp for when he's not there."

Mike shook his head. "John wouldn't stand for that. He looks at this like it's his band. I mean, yeah, before he joined, we weren't doing too well finding shows and stuff, but there wouldn't be a band without me or Billie. But if you try to point that out to him…"

"It doesn't go so well."

"Yep."

Tre was about to make another comment, but their attention was diverted from the conversation to the garage upon hearing a loud crash.

"What the hell was that?"

Tre shrugged. "Your house, buddy. You'd know before I would."

Mike rolled his eyes and glanced to the door before pulling it open. On the other side, John and Billie were glaring at one another. John had a little bit of blood trickling down he side of his face. It was fairly obvious to both Tre and Mike that their "little argument" had resulted in at least a little violence on Billie's part.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

"What the fuck do you think it was for, you fucking asshole? Just shut the fuck up about the fucking band!"

John gave in and did as he was directed, instead opting to launch himself at Billie. Before he could make contact, however, Mike quickly stepped over to him and held him back. John's actions alone seemed enough to piss Billie off, and he threw himself at the drummer. His fist had barely made contact when Tre yanked him backwards.

"You fucking prick!" Billie yelled. Tre was pretty sure the comment was directed at John, but part of him was fearful that Billie was angry at him, wanting him to let go. He decided against releasing him either way, figuring it would probably be better for everyone involved if Billie didn't get at John again. "Get the hell out of my house!"

"You sure you want me to do that, Billie?" John asked with a sneer. "If I leave, I'm not gonna come back. You two'll be fucked without me. Are you sure you want me to go?" he repeated.

Billie narrowed his eyes. "Get. The. Fuck. Out!"

Mike didn't question his friend's choice. He would usually try to be more level-headed than Billie, but he had no objections in this case. Mike pushed John out of the garage and into the driveway. John glared at the three of them, specifically Billie, but didn't dare make a move against him, knowing his little posse would defend him. As he began walking off, Billie turned as best he could in Tre's arms and spat on John, trying to get to his oh-so-important pride. And as far as Billie could tell, it seemed to work.