Milo Kline's Story

Cliff's Californian apartment wasn't much better than the one he'd occupied in New York. It had the necessities, of course, but it was just about the polar opposite of his childhood. It was on the ground floor, thankfully, but that made it a bit more prone to robbery or being defaced. The small living room which joined with the kitchen could only hold a small group of people, not that Cliff really invited anyone over to his place unless he needed to. Parties were usually at a club or a bigger home and the band wasn't really a problem to fit in the apartment.

By eight thirty in the morning, Cliff was already up and sitting cross-legged on his bed. The young man watched the wall before him absentmindedly, holding a cigarette between his lips as it lazily smoked from the end. These calm, peaceful mornings were something he treasured. He could zone out and reflect on what was bothering him without the worry of attracting attention or standing out. It'd be a real shock losing them when the tour began. After a few minutes, he slowly kicked his legs over the side of his bed and ran a hand through his spiked hair. He'd already showered for the day, dressing in his usual style with a Nirvana t-shirt and a pair of dark red skinny jeans.

Stifling a yawn, Cliff grabbed his two duffel bags and carried them to the front door. He hadn't packed much in all reality. He only grabbed what he needed. Anything else could easily be bought on the trip. It was his music equipment that took up the bulk of what he was bringing. An amp, cords, pedals, his electric, and his acoustic were all coming on the trip along the West Coast. He settled down on one of the weathered sofas of the apartment and pulled out his acoustic and one of his countless picks from his pocket. Rumor said that Cliff's pockets really just led to an endless abyss of guitar picks in a multitude of colors and thicknesses. Ask him for a pick and he could hand you a handful of them. As he waited for the day to begin, Cliff plucked the strings of his guitar slowly, one by one, as he tuned them to perfection. Satisfied, he started to play softly first and then much louder as he grew confident. Before he knew it, he was strumming the guitar loudly, getting so into the music he forgot the fact that it was nine in the morning and people were still asleep. Angry knocking sounded on his door and Cliff looked up.

"Hello?" he asked, ceasing his playing for a moment. Not hearing a response, he placed the guitar down and went to investigate. He opened the door and came face to face with a middle aged woman, frowning deeply. Instantly, he recognized her as his upstairs neighbor who, if he remembered correctly, was never fond of him. It was as if she'd looked at him the day he moved in and said 'he looks like a kid I should hate.'

"Clifford Harrison," she snapped. Cliff narrowed his eyes as she used his full name. "It is nine o'clock in the morning and the other residents in the building are trying to sleep. So please, shut up." She looked around the room and seemed to instantly notice the bags. Her eyes lit up joyfully. "Are you...leaving?" Cliff nodded slowly, reluctantly giving her the satisfaction of being correct.

"For now," he said. "I'm touring with the band." A child on Christmas could not have been happier than the woman.

"Praise the Lord," she muttered. "I'd say it was a Christmas miracle, but it's summer. Memorial Day miracle, perhaps?" Cliff gave a roll of the eyes and a fake grin before slamming the door as politely as possible. As the door closed, his phone went off with a text from Milo. Cliff grinned lightly in amusement. He didn't think Milo had it in him to get up this early.

Wow, kid, I'm proud of you. I've been ready for a while now. Come here whenever convenient. -Cliff

After sending that, Cliff packed away his guitar and started to get ready to head out. First and foremost, he pulled on his pair of gray and yellow Chucks. Cliff then pulled on his plain, gray hoodie and followed it with a black-and-white checkered flat brim hat. Dressed and prepared for the trip, Cliff finally carried his belongings out to the sidewalk and sat on the curb beside them, waiting for Milo.

Cliff had removed his lighter and and a pack of smokes from his pocket to light a new one. The old one had been tossed into the street where it would inevitably be crushed by some oncoming vehicle. Cliff took a drag from the cigarette slowly before blowing a stream of smoke out between his lips. The sun began rising more over the tops of the surrounding buildings and Cliff had to squint his eyes to be able to see if any of the cars or trucks driving by were Milo's familiar Skoda. He'd been in the vehicle before but he still had no idea how Milo planned on squishing everyone in. He'd find a way though, thought Cliff.

Around this time, a large car (or maybe a small truck?) sped up by Cliff's spot on the curb. For a moment, he worried the car planned to run into a puddle of something and splash him for kicks and giggles. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened. He squinted against the sunlight and tried to identify the car. It sure looked familiar...but it was almost impossible to tell in the bright light.

"Cliff!" cried a voice. Squinting his eyes further, Cliff was finally able to make out Milo in the front seat of his Skoda, which he stopped abruptly. Grinning in amusement, Cliff slowly stood up and walked over to the truck. He stuck his head in through the window and looked around, taking in the interior.

"It's about time you get here, kid," he teased. "I didn't thin you had it in you to get up this early." He placed the smoke between his lips again and started grabbing his luggage to load in. He placed his duffel bags down and stood the acoustic up nearby. He hoped Skylar wouldn't place her drums on top of his bags but, it wasn't like he had too many things in the bag besides clothes, cigarettes, and some liquor. After hefting the amp in, he stretched his arms above his head and made his way back around to the front, climbing into shotgun. He seemed to think it was a given that the twenty-two year old received the passenger seat. Cliff balanced his electric between his legs, hoping it would free up room in the back by doing so.

"Mornin', Milo," he said, ruffling the blue locks of his band mate in a playfully rough manner. He looked over at the bassist and grinned crookedly. "You sure you should be driving? You look like a bomb about to blow." Milo always looked like that though. Cliff was just insinuating he wanted to drive. He had never bothered to actually invest in a car of his own, even though he wanted to. "Try not to kill us before we get to our first gig." At that moment, he seemed to notice the music playing in the car. Dramatically wincing, Cliff looked at Milo and raised his brow as if to say, "Really, Milo? Really?"

"Damn, I'd rather listen to Bieber before puberty or that Miley Cyrus chick than this," he murmured. "Your taste in music never ceases to amaze, Milo."

Milo was hoping for the best for his car's seat. "Nah man, don't even worry. It'd be a lot worse for your drums to break than us losing a bit of space in the van, you guys'll just have to cram a bit in the back. Nothing we haven't done before!" Milo said quickly. As he walked back, his stick-like legs bouncing underneath him, he heard Sky. "Think I should leave a note or just leave?" The garage door closed "I mean does anyone else's folks not know where they're going?". Milo almost chortled.

"Uh. Yeah, yeah my folks know I'm leaving" Milo said, a bit incredulous. He knew Sky's situation with her mom wasn't the best, but he wasn't aware of how bad it really was. He had a healthy relationship with his family, especially since he'd been independent most of his life. His parents were definitely aware of him leaving, and he'd checked everything with them; Graduation in June, tour in early summer (for an undetermined amount of time), a few weeks back home and off to New York for a degree in Music composition and production in the fall. He, like usual, had pushed off some of his problems to the last minute, and hadn't even told his friends he was leaving in the fall. It wasn't like he could just not go now, he had a small studio already ready to be rented starting in September.

Milo picked up the cases full of individual drums, a big one for the bass drum, little toms, a snare, a round flat case with cymbals stacked inside, whatever else Sky had. Once the car was all packed up Milo jumped back into the car's driver seat, waiting for Sky and Cliff. "Uhm, I think we'll head over to Halens, it's closer than Lux's place right?" he said, vaguely to Sky, he knew she and Lux were close. Without looking, Milo pulled into the road.

Grabbing his ipod, he considered putting on Miley Cyrus again, but put on one of his favorite Velvet Underground songs instead. Venus in Furs was perverse, but in a psychedelic 60's kind of way, written by a band who was a pet project of Andy Warhol. Milo knew there was an important connection between what you see and what you hear, and definitely respected Warhol, even was a fan of his art, but believed he had a lot less to do with the band than he wanted people to believe. Lou Reed, the Velvet Underground's frontman, was one of Milo's personal heroes, with his ability to write the opening tune of The Velvet Underground & Nico "Sunday Morning", a song that made Milo tear up at the pure genuine heartfelt message, and then have track four of the album be about BDSM.

He drove quickly to Halen's house, with the rest of The Velvet Underground & Nico playing on shuffle as he drove. Swerving through traffic he heard some of the cases move around in the back, and was thankful all of them had sprung the extra cash on hardshells. They arrived at Halen's house with in a few minutes. "I'll just go down if you want" he muttered, probably a bit too quiet. It was Milo's problem, he was always either too loud or too quiet. He quickly slipped out of the car, leaving the driver's side door open.

"My Darling! My Love!" Milo hollered, while pounding on Milo's door.

Cliff couldn't help but grin slightly as Milo made his signature, goofy smile. His brow furrowed in confusion, however, at the comment Milo made. Oh shit, this could not be good. Before he knew it, Miley Cyrus's voice was filling the car. Emitting a loud, dramatic groan, Cliff rolled his eyes.

"Really, Milo? Really?" he asked. Cliff took a drag from his cigarette slowly and the breathed the smoke out toward the window, which he cranked open for that purpose. He got one more drag out of the cigarette and then tossed it while Milo went on and on about the singer. "Yeah, she's pretty attractive. But I don't really bother to watch her music videos because, y'know, it's not really my forte. He glanced over boredly as Milo phone vibrated. "You shouldn't text and drive, kid. An old band mate of mine nearly died because of that." He didn't like to patronize. In fact, Cliff would have rather kept his mouth shut. But, his band meant a lot to him and he didn't want to see any of them get hurt, especially just before their biggest tour.

"Arlo Guthrie is Woody Guthrie's son..." Milo began again, continuing the earlier argument about the music in the car.

"It's not that I don't like him. I'm just not fond of his music," he replied. "I respect Guthrie, don't get me wrong, but I'd certainly rather listen to Cobain or even the Beatles than this." Their music taste was quite different and it usually accounted for a few good debates. Yet, Cliff wasn't prepared to bash his preferences. He might not approve of the music, but if Milo liked it, he would just have to live with it.

As they drove into Sky's neighborhood, Cliff slowly sat up to look a little less intimidating or anti-social. Subconsciously, he gripped the handle on the door as Milo weaved in and out uncontrollably. "Maybe you want to, I don't know, slow down, Milo?" he suggested again, looking over at the younger male with his brow slightly creased. I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, he thought fevrently, lighting up another cigarette to ease his nerves. They turned into the driveway of Sky's home as she started waving at them.

"Hey guys! Good morning, Milo and Cliff!" she cried cheerfully. Cliff smiled crookedly in his usual way and waved his free hand as the other held his cigarette. "Hey there, Sky." He stepped out of the car for a moment and hugged Sky back as she threw her arms around him in her over-excited way.

Cliff denied the pack politely as Sky offered it, gesturing to the smoke in between his calloused fingers. He laughed at Sky's request but, nevertheless, flicked his smoke on to the yard of her house. Cliff started toward her drums, thinking to help her, but then he decided he wouldn't want someone to touch his instruments and he didn't want to have the worry of dropping something on his shoulders. Instead, he retreated into the car again and sat there for a while, trying to ignore Miley Cyrus's voice that rang through the car. At the comment about everyone's folks knowing or not knowing where they were going.

"Well, I haven't spoken with my folks in years," he replied. "I don't think they care, either way." The lot left soon after, on their way to Halen's house. As they parked in the driveway, Cliff decided to get out again and follow Milo to the front door, hand shoved into his hoodie's pockets. Slowly, the guitarist rocked on his heels and looked around slowly.

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.

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.