The voice startled me and I jumped, spilling a few drops of coffee on the deck. Mike laughed at this, and sat down beside me. He pulled out his own pack of cigarettes, put one between his lips and lit one. "You scare much easier now than you used to, Monkey," he smiled.
I giggled at that and looked down at my feet. No one had called me Monkey for years. I couldn't help but smile at the stupid nickname Mike and Jaime gave me all those years ago. "I spook easy, I guess," I laughed it off.
Mike grinned and set his free hand down on my knee and took another drag. "We're all really glad you're back, you know," he said, as he exhaled. "Even though know one will exactly tell me what happened when we lost touch. I feel a little left in the dark here..." he trailed off.
I swallowed hard, and took another drag of my cigarette. I was lost for words. "A lot. A lot happened, Mikey."
"Just missed you, Monkey. And it kinda broke my heart that the first thing I heard when you were back is that we had to go to your apartment to get your stuff to make sure you didn't get killed. After all these years and that's how we reconnect, that's so fucked up," he spoke softly, stroking my knee.
I looked down at the ground, leaning my body into his. He wrapped an arm around me and gave me a squeeze. "I'm so sorry," I choked out, trying not to cry. It was hard. All these years. I loved these boys, and even though Tony didn't answer a single text or call, I could've tried to talk to the boys more than I did.
He sat up straight and ashed his cigarette. "You don't have to be sorry, B. I don't blame you."
He stood up and walked away, quickly returning with an ashtray that he took from the patio table. He set it down beside me as he put his smoke out. "We're here now. All of us. We won't go anywhere," he smoke softly yet stern.
I nodded and watched him go back into the house.
After a few minutes of gathering my thoughts, I headed back into the kitchen. Tony sat at the island, and gave me a soft smile when he saw me. "Morning," he half-whispered. "Coffee?"
I held my empty mug up as to answer him. "I can grab it, thanks Tone."
Vic was still passed out at the table, starting to drool on the tablecloth. I gave him a slight shove on the shoulder, startling him. I giggled. "Go sleep in a bed."
He took a few moments to get his bearings, finally realizing that he had indeed fallen asleep writing. He picked up his notebook and silently stumbled up the stairs towards his room.
"Does he do that a lot?" I asked Tony, who was still looking in the direction Vic had left in.
Before Tony could answer, Mike reappeared from the hallway and chimed in. "Only when he has this big idea he can't shake. Like if he gets inspired, he writes lyrics over and over until he can think of the story he's trying to tell."
"He almost went a whole week without sleep writing Stained Glass Eyes," Tony chuckled.
"Anyways," Mike started. "I think we're having a party here tonight," he grinned at me. "Haven't drank with Braxton since she was underage!"
I laughed back at him. "We were all underage back then."
"Ah," Tony sighed. "Mikey-whiskey-hands is making a comeback? After last time?" he questioned, brushing off what Mike and I had just said.
Mike hung his head and giggled. "Yeah, the three day hangover was pretty brutal. But I'm ready to get hurt again."
We all laughed together, me with one eyebrow raised in confusion. "What happened last time?"
The boys were in stitches as this point. "We played 'beeramid," but Mikey here was the only one not drinking soda or water, and downed two or three bottles of Jameson in record time."
We all laughed at the thought of Mike, a tall, skinny giraffe, flailing and stumbling around drunkenly.
"You're in for a treat, B."
