Cary and Jack arrived in Boulder around noon. They parked and Carey scanned the parking lot for Michael's car. He didn't see it. Kinda worried him that Michael might not be home. Carey shrugged it off, figuring maybe he got a different one or something. They climbed up the outside step and Carey reached out his ring clad left hand and knocked on the door numbered 343. There was a long pause and then came the sound of something crashing on the inside.
"Hold up just a minute," a voice from inside called out.
"I need to warn you, he's not the neatest guy around," Carey told Jack, "But he's a freakin' genius,"
"Supposed to be a common trait among them. So what's your excuse?" Jack replied and Carey answered with a smack on the back of Jack's head.
A boy about five foot nine with dark brown hair and light eyes answered the door while still buttoning his shirt.
"Carey Bell. Damn boy, the music bizz did you good," he said
"You look like shit on the other hand, Michael," Carey teased his friend.
"Ah get off it. I fell asleep, leave me alone,"
Jack cleared his throat as the two passed insults back and forth.
"Oh right. Michael, this is Jack Phillips. His mom's kinda my boss,"
Michael shook Jack's hand and stepped to the side to let the two in. He motioned to the couch for them to sit down, which they did.
"So Jack, you're the one with the sister, right?" Michael asked as he put things away in the kitchen.
"The sister? Yeah, that would be me," Jack shot a look to Carey. In return, Carey just shrugged and gave a "what can I say?" look.
"You guys want something to drink? I've got soda, milk, orange juice, something lingering in the back that I don't trust, and some beer and malts,"
"Nah, that's cool," Carey said.
"Well, you guys know where it's at, so feel free to help yourselves,"
Michael came back in the room and plopped down into the broken down green recliner he and Carey had found by a dumpster behind an old flea market east of town. The room was littered with rented videos, magazines, and half used up note books. Not really so cluttered as to impair movement, but enough to notice. To put in fewer words, it was a guy that lived alone's place.
"So how's your brother? He still with that one one friend of yours?" Michael asked of Carey.
"Daria? Of course. They're as happy as ever. He's getting on good at Santa Cruz, but he misses home like crazy,"
"By that he means getting free meals and having someone do his laundry," Jack said with an arch of the eyebrow.
"Eh, Clu'll learn to get past it sometime like we all do," Carey said with a smile. He really was happy to get away from work and home, even though he loved them both dearly. Sometimes you need something new. Not that life ever really got boring, the girls made sure of that. But, sometimes a little bit of laid back normality with the boys was a gift received with open arms.
"Dude, is that a tattoo on your wrist?" Michael inquired the guitar boy of his birthday present to himself. Actually, he had wanted a tattoo but Fiona and Daria came up with the ideal. He decided to get it on his left wrist so he could cover it up with the big buckle watch to hide it from Irene as long as he could.
"Um, yeah, I got it on my twenty-first," Carey replied as Michael examined it.
"Sweet. What's it suppose to be?"
"It's a Gaelic life symbol. Wasn't the best experience of my life either because of the knot work all through it. But it's worth it. Gonna cherish the meaning forever,"