#BroCodeFF on twitter!! Tweet me with opinions or questions! I reply and RT a lot! Just use the tag and I'll creep it.
Guys, I've changed my user to @MadelineIce (madelineice) to keep it more private. I'd rather not have my real name attached to the book. It may sound odd, but I'm sure some of you understand. :)
I'm sorry for the long wait, it was a bad week since the last update. I hope you guys don't hate me. Without further waiting, here you do.
I will edit it tomorrow btw. :)
200 VOTES + 75 COMMENTS = THURSDAY CHAPTER
Michael's POV
"Your buds are going to think you're famous," he smirks, pulling into the lot.
"Yeah, my friends are all jealous," I lie. My one friend is going to want to kill me.
"Here you are," he says, turning the car off. "I'll be here if you want to go anywhere else," he smiles.
"You're not coming in with me?" I ask.
"Eh, I don't usually," he says. His young yet wrinkled eyes are confused.
"Could you? I don't want to be in there alone with strangers," I tell him.
"We're no more than strangers," he tells me.
True. "But I know you better than them, Chris. See, I know your name. Do I know theirs? Nope."
"If you insist, I'll come," he smiles. He starts to get out, but I stop him.
"But dude, you gotta change that shirt, its fucking ugly," I laugh. He looks down and clings the material, then he laughs to himself.
"My wife insisted I wear it today," he smiles. "I have a spair white button-up in the glove box; hand me it?" he asks.
"Why do you keep clothes in here?" I ask, opening the compartment. I pull the shirt out and toss it to him.
He opens the door and stands to unbutton his shirt. "Days like this, if I spill something, if I need to look better. Plus, white goes with everything," he smiles and tosses the old shirt at me to replace the white one that he's slipping his arms through. He rolls up the end of the sleeve to make it up to his elbows.
"So much better," I laugh, but mean it honestly. "I suggest you only wear that on vacation or burn it altogether."
"I'll be sure to let my wife know," he chuckles. I get out of the car, making sure I have my phone and double checking that Chris has his keys.
We walk towards the front of the building as people briskly walk past us. He opens the door and walks in first, I trail right behind him as we make our way to the front counter. The petit women looks up at us with a friendly smile.
"Name?" she asks.
"Michael Clifford," I tell her. She types on her keyboard before returning another smile and telling me to wait just where I am. I turn to Chris while I wait for the woman to return. "So how'd you get this job?"
"I went to school to be a writer, but wouldn't you guess, it's not a likely career to get a job in. I've known John since we were mates in high school, and we even went to University together. That's how I know what he would be doing. A little while after we graduated, he got bumped up into the big leagues and my wife and I had just been married. We tried to find a house and start a life, but it was futile. I went a couple of years at a postal service, then I met John again when I was delivering to his work," he smiles. "I'm sorry, I guess I could've summed that up."
"No, no. It's fine," I assure him. "So how did it come about? Did he ask you to drive for him?" Chris looks down to his hands and his face concentrates on something. "You don't have to tell me or anything," I chuckle to lighten it up. "I was only curious."
"No, it's fine. I realized I couldn't do it on my own, so I asked him to lend me some money. He was more than happy to. After awhile, I knew I'd never be able to pay him back all of the money, so he let me work it off. Somehow and somewhere down the line, we've come to this agreement."
His hands are shoved into his pockets and his smile is endearing. "What agreement?"
"You love questions.." I smile at his words. "He lets us live in a company suite and use a company card as long as I edit all of his paperwork and drive around anyone he needs me to."
"That's actually a really good deal. Sounds like John's a pretty good guy," I tell him.
"Yeah, I couldn't have picked a better friend," he smiles. I don't say anything, I'd rather not pest him with questions. "But, if you don't mind me asking, who was the inspiration for your song? John let me listen to it once, pretty good for someone so young."
"Have you seen the whole video?" I ask. He nods. "The girl in that. Her name's Hope Taylor," I tell him.
"Ah, what's the story behind that? The lyrics are much more upsetting than the pictures lead on to be." I'm thoroughly impressed that he could catch all the lyrics and notice it isn't happy.
"Basically, I've liked her since we were really young, and I've been doing the right thing by keeping the friendship and not risking it for myself," I tell him. I shift awkwardly in the spot that the lady left us in.
"Did she know you liked her?"
"I think she's always known, but she didn't want to bring it up," I reply, a little more quiet than before. "We had just started to figure it out, and she had kissed me--more than once!-- and I know she has feelings of some sort. It's just that I haven't figured out what kind."
"What about the rest of the song? Is there a new guy or something?" Once again, I'm impressed that he rememebers and knows.
"Yeah, she met him once. Well..twice, but she was drunk the second time and didn't remember it," I tell him.
"So, was it love at first site or am I missing a piece to the puzzle?" he looks at me, his eye brows furrow together on his tanned skin.
"I'm honestly not sure. She came over, took my phone, got his number, and they've been seeing eachother since." I never realized how much it doesn't add up.
"Seems odd, don't you think?" his head cocks to the side. "Do you think she could've been trying to make you jealous?" he says.
"No, she's had her whole life to make me jealous, but she never has."
"Mr. Clifford," the woman comes back as her heels sound against the tiled floors. Chris and I both break the conversation to give her our attention, "The booth is now ready for you. Follow me." She comes from behind the desk and leads us down the hallway. The floor changed from tile to carpet somewhere along the way. Following in silence, I take in all the records hung on the walls, many belonging to old singers and bands. I'm slightly honored to have been given this opportunity.
Her footsteps stop as we approach a door towards the end of the hallway; the name plate beside it has my name written on masking tape and stuck to the golden colored medal. It's opened slightly, and I can't help but to enter before I am given permission. Chris waits outside the door and gives a cheery thank you to the woman.
"Zach will be in any minute. He'll be helping you with anything you need," she smiles and leaves us where we are.
"This is so neat! I've never been in here before!" Chris says, looking at all the buttons on display.
"I'm pumped now! Look at this! It's like a real recording studio. Shit," I say to myself, but rather loud, gaining a laugh from Chris. We spend the next couple of minutes examining the room and microphone system set up. I take a picture of my name on the door and send it to my mom. Only seconds later a man, who I assume to be Zach, walks in and greets us.
"Hello," he shakes our hands, "I'm Zach Enders. I'm going to be doing all the tech things for you today. I have a few questions first," he says. I nod, letting him know that it is okay to continue. "Do you only play guitar?"
"I can do guitar and a little bass."
"Not piano or drums?"
"No, I've only played around on them. Why?"
"It's written in the description that there is to be main piano and guitar instrumentals. No one was sure if you could do it, so we didn't know if there was to be other people brought in to do it. Please excuse me while I call in the musicians," he smiles and leaves the room, pulling his phone from his back pocket.
"You should learn the piano, it's so much more calming than the guitar," Chris says from the black leather couch in the room.
"You play?"
"Since I was a child," he smiles.
"Anything other than piano?" I ask.
"Actually, yes. I play nearly all basic instruments: guitar, drums, piano, flute, violin, and bass," he lists all of them.
"How?!" my shock getting the best of my voice. "It must've taken ages!"
"I learned when I was young, so I picked up quickly. Plus, they all relate to eachother on some notes," he smiles.
"That's crazy. I wish I could learn piano, it's always so pretty, but I don't have nearly enough fucking patience."
"It's not as hard as you think," he says, getting up and walking into the actual recording booth. He makes his way to the piano bench and lifts the cover from above the keys. "Is this the song?" I look down at the notes and quickly remember how it would sound on a guitar.
"Yeah, that's it."
"Just don't stray from your middle key," he says, easily gliding his fingers over the keys and play the familiar yet distant sound of the song I wrote only a couple of days ago. It sounds different on a piano. I pick up the guitar set on a stand in the corner of the room and sling it over my shoulder. I match up his notes with the ones on the sheet that is out for us. It sounds badass, I never thought to put the two together.
When the door opens, both of us quit playing. "I'm not sure what we're going to do. Our main pianist's wife is having a baby, and our back up is sick. We may have to reschedule," he says.
"No, dude. Look, here's a pianist and drummer," I point to Chris.
"Absolutely not," Chris says, standing from the chair.
"Why not?" I follow him from the booth.
"I'm not good enough. This is your moment."
"Bullshit, you were really good," I tell him. "Please!"
"I doubt John would be happy about it," he makes another lame ass excuse.
"I could contact him now and find out," Zach says, down for the idea.
"No, it's okay," Chris says.
"Do it!" I tell Zach. "If he says it's okay, you're doing it," I smile. I know he secretly wants to do it.
"He's my boss, I'd have to," he says in a lower tone as Zach talks to the company's employees. We wait patiently as he talks to the person on the other line. When he thanks John from this end, I know we've gotten his approval.
"I hope you're ready," Zach smiles. "If you would like some practice, you may have a half hour, if not, let's get to it."
We decide to be straight shooters and save as much time as possible.
Emma's POV
"Lincoln, come here baby," I call for my two year old running around our small, dingy livingroom.
"Emma Ryans! Get this baby from the kitchen before I have to!" my mother slurrs from the next room over. I stand from my spot on the floor and playfully pick up Lincoln. Once he's in my arms, I am sure to give my mother a warning glare for threatening my child.
The scent of cookies was filling the air, and what two year old wouldn't want to try and get some. Putting Lincoln down, I set the channel to a cartoon and watch as he becomes involved in the show. When I'm sure he's focused on the television, I exit the room to talk to my mother. She's taking a drag of her cigarette, eyeing me as if I'm the vermin to ruin her life.
"How many more times do I have to tell you that you're not to be smoking in the house?" I tell her, taking it from between her fingers.
"How many times did I tell you to keep your whore legs closed?" she taunts. I don't reply, she loves egging me on. "That's what I thought."
"You can pack your things and leave if you don't learn to be polite around Link," I threaten her priveledge of a home.
"Tell me, if you kick me out," she steps closer, her breath wreaking of smoke, "how will you afford all the bills?" She always throws it in my face.
"I'll get another job, anything to keep you form corrupting my son's childhood," I tell her. I take in her raggedy appearance. The cloth she calls a sweater is falling from her shoulder, and her nearly see-through shirt underneath makes her look like a perfect homeless woman. Covering her legs are the same pants she's been wearing for a week straight. Her sunken eyes and cheeks show that she's been doing drugs. I'm not sure where she goes to get it, but I can assure you that I would never allow it in my home.
"Yeah sweetheart, good luck," she picks up her cup and toasts it in the air, then leaves me alone as she walks to her hole of a room.
"Mommy, why's grandma sad?" Lincoln stumbles into the kitchen and asks me. His young voice soothes the tension that was just resident in my chest.
"Grandma is just sick, honey," I assure him. "Now, how about a cookie?" I tickle attack his belly and listen to the joyous sounds of his laughter as it fills the kitchen.
"I do, mommy! I do," he says through the giggles.
"I love you," I tell him as I set him in his seat.
"Love you," his immature voice says with a smile following. "Cookie?" he asks. I take one off the tray and warn him that it's going to be hot. I watch as he devours two cookies.
The truth is that Lincoln was basically the result of a drunken night. The bigger truth? I was with two men that night, both a year younger than myself. The difference? One was actually my boyfriend that night. Ben was my boyfriend, and Luke was the other one.
I take in Lincoln's appearance, and I honestly couldn't tell you who his father is. Granted, neither stuck around. His blond hair could be Ben's or Luke's--he's got much thicker hair than I do. His blue eyes could be mine or Luke's, but his nose is a toss up. I can only assume that it's from other relatives. I've just graduated high school, and I'm registered into a nursing program from home. When I was in eleventh year, I went to a party. Noone but the people I was with knew I was a slut, but I was.
I slept with so many other people. Luke knew. Ben believed that I was faithful enough not to cheat. Idiot. I wish I could take it all back. Everything except Lincoln of course. I was so scared to tell my parents when I found out. My dad ended up leaving when I refused to get an abortion, claiming the stress was ruining the family. My mother sided with me on the abortion, but never forgave me for being the reason he left us. As for the boys, they both believe that they are the father.
Luke only ever assumed, but I never told him otherwise. Ben, on the other hand, I had to make sure he thought it was his. I didn't want him to know that I had cheated on him, and I knew I'd need his support through it all. The world was less than shocked when Ben left us in the middle of the night. Lincoln was only a couple months old. I haven't heard from him since that day. Sometimes I do wish I had the support, but most of the time, I just am glad that he left before Lincoln was old enough to get hurt.
That night is something that no one knows about. They know what they think they know, not what they should. I feel like I could've ruined Luke's life and reputation. I would get a DNA test to prove that it's not him, but I couldn't force myself to leave him alone if it was him. I tell myself that I'd keep it the same, but I know deep down that I'd want him to take part in Linc's life.
"Mommy, what are you looking at?" Lincoln breaks me from my thoughts, his 'L' and 'R' sounding much like a 'W'. It's one of the best thing's about this stage. They can talk and use full sentences and are able to answer and ask questions, but their voices always make it sound so much better than it would if it were an adult.
"You're cute little face," I smile and ruffle his hair.
"Don't do that," he reached his short arms up to fix his hair, not quite able to reach the very top.
"Don't do what?" I say, reaching my hands up, slowly teasing him. His blue eyes shine bright against the red shirt he's wearing. His soft complexion is enlightened by his smile that takes place as he realizes what I'm about to do.
"No! No!" he laughs as I ruffle his hair even further.
It pains me to see my beautiful baby boy without a father, no stable role model to show him the ropes. But somewhere, somewhere in this damned continent, is a guy who could love this child endlessly. Whether it ends up being Luke or someone that life has instore for me, I know they're out there.
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I GOT MY FIRST EVER BRO CODE EDIT!!! I can't post it because idk why. I hate wattpad. >.<
but if you'd like to see it, it's the third picture on @MichaelsTwin, it's by @basiclynarry! If you make them, tag me and #BroCodeFF cus not all pictures come up under the tag!
Boom. Chapter 29 Part Two! Opinions?! What about that curveball?!
Good? Bad?
I'm sorry for the wait! I promise two chapters a week from now on!!