"Blaine, its just a favor…" Cooper Anderson said over the phone. The older Anderson scratched his head and just waited for his younger brother's response.
"NO. I said no, Coop. My answer is still no."
"Come on, you'll get paid."
"What?" The younger asked, then silence.
"I mean, you'll get compensated for your time, la-di-da, I'm supposed to tell you all these things anyway," he sighed.
"Just because you're a doctor and I'm a struggling musician doesn't mean I need the money."
"Nope. But you want it."
"I hate you."
"Love you too. See you Tuesday, bro!" Click.
Blaine sighed and fell back on his couch. He licked his lips and skimmed through his TV. The latest Lakers game was on, and he had missed part of the first quarter. He and his studio buddies had made bets on who would be leading during halftime and at the end of the game. He hummed, running his hand through his curly hair as a call was made and he shook his head.
His phone rang again. It was Cooper.
"What?" he answered the phone with a furrow of his triangular brows.
"Nothing. Wrong number, Blainers." Click.
Blaine just rolled his eyes and continued to watch the game, until he got up at the next commercial break to make himself some coffee. He started to hum to himself as he put things here and there in the kitchen, pouring the coffee when it was ready.
He sat down on the couch again, as the game returned sipping his coffee and grinning as the Lakers scored another basket. He wasn't really a fan, but he was in L.A. right now, so heck, why not? His brother was going to get him for this. They were always Celtics fans. He laughed a little to himself as the game went on, eventually setting his coffee down and passing out on the couch.
Suddenly a thought popped in his head. Tuesday. Blaine cursed under his breath. Tuesday. Tuesday. "That's tomorrow," he groaned. "I hate you, Cooper, I really, really do."