Machines For Kids » Places

         

Cliff hummed a guitar riff softly under his breath, trying to distract himself from how awkward he felt on Halen's porch. He never was fond of waiting in front of people's homes. He always felt the neighbors were staring him down and watching each and every move he made. He adjusted his hat on his head and, as the sun began to rise further in the sky, he rolled up his hoodie's sleeves.

"Oh fuck!" he heard Skylar cry. Cliff looked over quickly at her, grinning crookedly.

"For a girl, you sure do swear like a sailor," he teased. It was always amusing teasing the other members of the band. They were like the little siblings he'd never had, thanks to his parents' lack of love for each other and divorce. Cliff gave her a subtle nudge, too. But, after a few moments of laughing lightly, he seemed to grow concerned. "You alright though, Sky? That was pretty loud, even for you."

At around that time, though, he looked away to see Halen just about skipping to the door. He smirked and rolled his eyes at Halen in a teasing manner. "You're obviously the most masculine one in the band," he jeered. "G'morning, Halen." Cliff had always been fond of the lead singer. Halen had one of the most similar personalities to his own and he was one of the first band members he felt he could speak freely to. Milo had the tendency to get distracted and he felt a bit awkward telling the girls about his personal life. Milo grabbed Halen's only bag and started toward the car with Halen and his guitar following close behind. Cliff followed, pulling his jacket off completely as he got back into shotgun in the Skoda.

He heard Milo speaking about the guitars in the back and he grinned to himself before yelling. "We should have acoustic songs!" he teased. Acoustic songs weren't even his forte, but he still did appreciate playing a nice medley on the acoustic guitar to ease his nerves. It did just about the same thing a cigarette did for him or a bottle of beer. "I have my standards, Milo!" he cried, responding to the "rockstar" comment. "It could be worse, in hindsight. Some of the requests of today's 'rockstars' are insane. Madonna has a set of furniture she takes with her on tour, I think. I'll text Lux," he offered. "Uno momento, por favor." He whipped out his phone and pulled up Lux's contact information to send her a message.

"Hey Lux," he began the message. "We just picked up Halen at his place. We're on our way to come kidnap you :) Milo wants to stop for lunch on the way (yay, food)." The smiley face was unusual for Cliff, but he felt it lightened the mood of his texts, which usually seems monotonous and a bit threatening from the habit he'd picked up of using proper grammar each time he texted." Milo jumped out of the car to run up to Tansy's house, but Cliff simply yawned and settled back in his seat. Lux knew he cared about her, he didn't need to run up to her door to prove it.

         

Milo's usual smile of crooked teeth was spread over his face when Halen opened the door, but then disappeared when the yelling appeared. "Shit shit shit" he muttered, while Sky yelled at a passerby, "You okay?" asking Sky, he leaned over her, probably ignoring her personal space a bit. He really wasn't that much taller than her, especially in comparison to Cliff. "Maybe your arm's going to fall off and you'll never be able play drums again" he mumbled, his smile coming back. After his comment he felt slightly like a father making jokes at their child's expense, even though Milo was in no kind of way a fatherly figure. Most of the band was older than him, anyway. Sky looked fine, just in a bit of pain. "Uh, as long as you're not allergic you'll be fine" He said to sky as he walked away, patting her on the shoulder as he passed to follow Halen.

"Yeah" Milo said, mainly to himself, "yeah! help" he said, looking up and flashing his teeth at Halen. He set the guitars down next to his bass, all going upright. "Two guitars eh? We don't even have acoustic songs" he said, standing back for a second, then leaned on Halen. He was unbalanced leaning on his slightly taller friend, only their shoulders touched. He set up the back of the van where all the guitars would sit upright, and eventually Lux's synthesizer. Milo's bass was the longest of the cases, and the only one to touch both sides of the van. He pushed Halen's guitars more to the left, leaning space on the right for suitcases. In front of the guitars were Sky's drums, bass drum upright, toms sitting how they would normally sit, same with the snare, with the cymbals and stands laid over them. There was enough room left for Lux's synthesizer and her suitcase, but barely.

"God! you guys are like fucking rockstars or something with all this shit you're bringing" He said, thinking about the nearly empty duffel bag and backpack he brought. He always had the backpack on him anyways. It was filled with the random odds and ends he always had, a notebook for ideas (not always music related), pens, pencils, lighters, whatever book he'd been reading, a hat, and whatever else he felt like bringing. The duffel bag literally only had t-shirts (of the band variety, Tool, Sublime, the Pixies, Neutral Milk Hotel, and more, all of them in black or white), underwear and a beanie.

He hopped back into the driver side seat of his car "We're not even late!" he said, moving his rear view mirror slightly. Before pulling out of the driveway, he changed the song on his ipod. King Krule this time, the thing about Krule was that his discography was short, he was just a young-ish kind from London, and didn't have time to build it all up. The song playing however, was one of Milo's favorite of all time, and he was amazed someone only a bit older than him could write it.

"Someone text our lady Lux please. I think we'll pick her up, then we'll go somewhere for lunch then sit down somewhere for a few hours and plan out our entire fucking tour, then head over to metaphor" he said, back on the road. He drove to his friend's house quickly. He, like at all the houses before, jumped out of the car quickly and went to fetch his bandmate.