Matt Hardy looked through the lens of the old 8 mm camera that he had bought from a local pawn shop. Adjusting the focus he turned the camera's attention to the old Rock 'n' Roll posters that hung on the wall of the industrial New York City loft that he shared with his brother Jeff, the struggling musician. The loft was located on the corner of 11th street and Avenue B, and was on the top floor of what was once a music publishing factory. He zoomed in on the posters, especially the ones that had Jeff's picture advertising gigs at CBGB's and the Pyramid Club. Their only form of heat was an illegal wood burning stove in the center of the loft; its exhaust pipe crawling up to a skylight. All of the electrical appliances were plugged into one thick extension cord which snaked its way out a window that looked out on the lot next door, which had been taken over by the homeless and transformed into a little village of cardboard houses and newspaper blankets. Matt focused next on Jeff, who sat on the wooden kitchen table. The strap of his old Fender electric guitar hung over his shoulder as he strummed a couple of clearly out of tune strings.
"December 24th, nine p.m." Matt said, stepping closer towards Jeff "the first day of my latest project. Where I, Matthew Moore Hardy, will document a year in the life of myself and my dearest and closest friends. First shot, my baby brother Jeff, tuning the fender guitar he hasn't played in a year."
"I can't get it in tune."
"Yeah I can tell." Matt laughed "Jeff here has just rejoined the living after suffering for a half a year of withdrawal."
"Hey! You think you could not mention that?"
"Well I gotta say something."
"I don't care what you say, just not that."
"Alright then Jeff" Matt said, zooming in as close as possible on the younger man "why don't you tell all the folks at home what you are doing?"
Jeff lifted his head up from the guitar and stared straight into the camera.
"I am attempting to write one great song, before I..."
But before he could finish his statement he was cut off by the high pitch shrieking of the telephone. Knowing that their landlord Shane would probably be calling about the rent, Matt and Jeff left the answering machine pick it up.
"God dang it that was a loud beep." The voice coming from the machine said in a heavy southern accent. It wasn't Shane but nether one of them really wanted to talk to who it was. So they just stood by and listened to the machine. "Is this thing working? Boys? Are you there? Are you screening? It's dad. I was just calling to send my love and see how ya'll were doing. Making sure Jeff's eating well and everything, you need your strength boy. Oh and Matt I'm sorry to hear about you and Amy, but don't let it get you down. If she wants to be one of those lesbians let her be. There are plenty of other women out there for ya son. Call me back and we'll talk about it."
Almost immediately after the message ended the phone rang again. Figuring it was their father reminding them of some more sore issues they let the answering machine pick it up again. But they were surprised to hear the soft voice of a man singing "Chestnuts Roasting". Matt smiled recognizing the tone of his best friend Shannon Moore. He picked up the phone and brought it to his ear,
"Shannon my man!"
"Hey dude what's happening?"
"Nothing. Just working on my latest idea to revolutionize cinematography?"
"Always working. How's Jeff? Still a hermit?"
"As always. I thought he was going to leave the loft for a minute there yesterday but he was just getting wood for the stove."
Matt wasn't lying. Jeff hadn't left the loft in over a month except for the occasional trip to the laundry mat and even then he would make it down the stairs and then decided to just wash his clothes in the sink.
"Well I'm heading over so leave the door open."
"Sure thing man."
"Alright I'll see ya in a...what the hell? What are you doing?!"
Matt listened in confusion as Shannon screamed at who ever was bothering him. He heard what sounded like a thud then click someone hung up the phone. Matt placed the receiver back down, not too sure what had just happened.
"What's wrong?" Jeff asked noticing the strange expression on his brother's face.
"I don't really know. I think something's wrong with Shannon."
"What do you mean?"
But before Matt could answer the phone rang again. Thinking it was Shannon again he picked it up.
"Shannon? Are you okay? What happened?"
"Sorry to disappoint you buddy." The voice on the other end answered.
"Shane, shit!"
Hearing the name of his former friend and now landlord Jeff moved over towards Matt, leaning his ear into the receiver to hear the conversation.
"I'm heading over to collect the rent."
"What rent?" Matt yelled out of anger. Shane Helm use to be one of the coolest guys he knew. They had grown up together, went to school together, lived together, he was even Jeff's best friend. But ever since he got married to that rich socialite bitch, Alison Grey, he became a different person.
"The rent that I let slide for the past year." He asked in a snide tone.
"Let slide?" Jeff interrupted "You said when you bought the building that we didn't have to pay rent. Remember? When you lived here?"
"Yes Jeff I remember. You two, me, Shannon, and Amy. How is the drama queen anyway?"
"She performing tonight." Matt answered.
"Yeah I know. You two still dating?"
"Well, not anymore."
"What she's got a new guy?"
"Not exactly." Matt said, not really wanting to get into it with Shane of all people.
"Come on what's his name?"
"Joanne." Jeff laughed.
"Oh, tough break man, but still your rent is due. I'm heading over now. Have it ready by the time I get there or I'll have no other choice but to evict both your asses."
Matt hung up phone and looked over at Jeff who had gone back to his instrument. He couldn't believe Jeff had blabbed to Shane about his situation with Amy. It wasn't embarrassing enough, now all the rich upscale Manhattan yuppies would know about it. Still he couldn't stay made at Jeff. He had been such a wreck for so long that it made Matt happy to see him laugh, even if it was at his expense. Finally getting his guitar in tune Jeff strums the first few notes of Musetta's Waltz from Puccini's La Boheme. But before another the note could exit the amp the entire loft goes black. The power had blown out.
