Calling All Angels 5/?

[greenforgreen.livejournal.com]

Title: Calling All Angels Part 5/?
Rated: T for Language
Characters: Jeff, Greg, Mike
Summary: Did you ever have that one person who changed your life? Pre-Whose Line AU.


Enjoy your part 5.









Greg nearly broke Mike's back in jubilance as they moved back into their dressing room. The younger hadn't ever felt so light and happy for a long time, even after hearing the news about this gig; he just had to pounce on his friend before racing him back to change out of their wet, sweaty clothes. The older man's glare didn't last long as he saw his friend's face beam at him as Mike shut the door.

"What a great fucking show, man! I never thought that'd work! You totally called it Mike," Greg praised and slid off his tie.

"I think you warming them up got it going, but thanks for giving me all the credit."

Greg laughed and began taking off his shirt; first starting with the damn buttons, but he hurried and pulled at the cloth until it hung in a semi-damp limp on the table. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out another fresh white shirt and vest. Mike just shook his head as he looked at Greg; he was so skinny compared to himself, but in no sense was either of them muscular. Although, he was surprised Greg didn't have anyone chasing after him. Sure the younger did fancy the waitress up in San Francisco and she seemed to have some interest, but no one else particularly cared for an Elvis Costello when Bryan Adams was two blocks down.

"When you're fully dressed, Michael, I'm going out for a drink."

Greg was already to the door before Mike could finish with the last button. He waved the younger off and Greg disappeared behind the door. As the young man walked down, Mr. Davis locked his room up and almost ran the shorter man over.

"Oh hey, sorry buddy," Greg apologized.

"No, my fault," Mr. Davis replied, but then his eyes narrowed in thought as he gazed down at him.

"You were that comedian weren't you? The one that poked fun at my wife?"

Greg gulped; this man was a good four inches taller than he was and definitely stronger in build. He waited for the punch that was going to say hello to his nose for talking rudely about the man's wife. He winced as Mr. Davis raised his hand, but there was no punch. Instead, the hand clapped his shoulder in approval and the older man laughed.

“That was some damn good stuff. I was waiting for someone to finally get her to shut the hell up.”

Greg let out a sigh and his own laughter as Mr. Davis pulled him away to the bar. The man didn't seem angry at all for Greg's ridicule which left the younger man at ease for the moment. Mr. Davis even offered a drink to the comedian and his friend whenever he finally arrived. Greg took the alcohol gleefully; he could never refuse a free drink. The two men sat on the stools talking, sharing their memo sized life stories and show business small talk. Greg was impressed with Mr. Davis's credentials; he sounded like a man who knew talent when he saw it. The same thought ran through the elder man's brain: even if rude on stage, he was mild and laid back, but it could also be the after effects of an exciting show.

“Dad! Mom said she needs the car keys!” yelled a voice from behind Mr. Davis.

The man sighed and turned around, revealing Jeff to Greg. The younger had recognized him from earlier; he was the same stuck up kid who freaked out at the backstage door. That kid performed with them? He watched the two share a few words and noted the similarities between them: dark brown hair, strong jaws, and an aquiline nose. He couldn't remember what the kid's name was; he would always forget an unimportant name that he didn't deem significant. He just smiled politely as they continued their light banter, before the boy hurried back to his mother at the door. Mr. Davis turned back around shrugging.

“My son, Jeffery. He's a good kid; going to be a hit in Hollywood one day,” the older man beamed with pride. “I'm not just bullshitting either. He was just on a show called Highway to Heaven.”

“Never watched it,” Greg drank his scotch. The blunt news caught the older man off guard. “And dude, seriously, lay off your kid for a bit, huh? Between the praise and smacks, the poor kid must be confused as fuck.”

Mr. Davis's eyes bulged with shock at the younger man's words; he was speechless for a few minutes. But the scotch had gotten the better of him and he laughed again.

“Yeah... I know. But Jeff's special... going to be special one day. Can't help but be proud you know?” Jeff's father took another hard drink and pointed at the bespectacled man. “You know? I like you Greg; say where are you staying tonight? I'd love to have something sent to you guys later.”

Greg shrugged; he didn't know where in the hell Mike and he were going to stay. He shrugged and took another drink. By now, Mike entered the bar finally and made his way over to the jukebox to checkout the records there. He thought really hard then; this guy seemed like he had some money in his pockets, especially if he played the piano for fun and had an acting son. Maybe he could smooth talk his way into a nice hotel or somewhere just as good.

“You're shitting me? Isn't that a stupid move to come to Los Angeles without booking a room?”

“Oh yeah, stupid on our part,” Greg rolled his eyes and muttered an inaudible “asshole” after that.

Mr. Davis thought about it really hard or at least as hard as his mind wanted to think under the scotch. His wife was making her way back down the stairs to the main floor with Jeff and that's when the idea hit. They had an extra room in their house... and Jeff had a bunk bed, so Bill could sleep on one of them... leaving another open room...

“'Scuse me for a moment Greg,” Mr. Davis replied as he hurried over to Mrs. Davis.

Greg watched curiously as the man grabbed his wife's small shoulders and pulled her aside. Jeff sat down at his mother's table and laid his head down on the flat surface. He was getting so tired after an early morning flight and the time almost reaching to the early mornings. His legs also started to hurt really badly, like someone was twisting his tendons. The young man tipped the Pepsi glass into his mouth and he began sucking on the ice; he didn't bother with holding the glass.

He suddenly felt a weird feeling like someone was looking at him. Nonchalantly, Jeff stretched and searched the tables until he saw that damn comedian looking straight at him. He was in a new shirt; it looked nicer on him with the silvery black tie he wore during his performance. He still looked like a damn nerd, but... Jeff couldn't help but still look. Greg wasn't looking at Jeff anymore, which made the younger feel more at ease as he gazed at him. The older man looked so smart, but yet... confident, unlike the awkward child, and daring as if he could fight against President Reagan and win. Jeff gave a wry smile to no one in particular.

The younger was snapped out of his stupor when his mother tapped on his shoulder. Jeff nearly jumped out of his skin at the delicate touch. He looked back at the bar where his father was talking to Greg again. There was an exchange of expressions: from calm to shock then modesty and finally, gratitude. Jeff wondered what his father had said to the younger man, but it was apparently good news as Greg scurried off to find his partner amongst the crowd.

“Jeff, come on sweetie. You didn't need to be up so late,” Mrs. Davis told him and led her son out into the car.


*---*---*


“So let me get this straight. A totally stranger just offered us two rooms for a week for under five hundred dollars, including meals?”

“Well as long a you cook for one night; I can't cook shit,” Greg answered as he followed behind the Davis's car.

Mike still couldn't put the two together. Greg must have played the pity card after getting the poor sap drunk. Greg smiled smugly as he flipped the blinker and turned off the highway with his hosts. They traveled along going a small distance out of the middle of Los Angeles and into the beautiful, clean cut suburbs. The neighborhood was... well... not the most enthralling thing Greg has ever seen, but it was... symmetrical at least. All the houses were the same white cookie cutter home that the next was and it stretched for miles it seemed. Greg was sure now that zombies would emerge from the houses and jump on their car if they made too loud of noises.

They pulled into the driveway as they family moved out of the car. Jeff was fast asleep in the back seat and had to be rudely awakened by his mother. The younger son moaned and leaned into the warm body as she walked him inside the house while Mr. Davis helped the men carry in their bags. Greg was feeling more settled now they were promised a warm bed to sleep in; he actually thank the elder man for carrying the heavy suitcase for him.

Mrs. Davis walked Jeff into his bed and just took off his shoes; he was much to tired to be bothered with and she blamed herself. Besides she needed to save her energy for her oldest who was listening to Aerosmith in his room with the music up loud.

Walk this way! Walk this Way!

“Bill! Turn that down!” Mrs. Davis called and banged on his door.

Just give me a kiss.. Like this!

“Dammit William Logan Davis! Open the door!”

Bill swung the door open and looked down at his mother. She held her hand to her face and shook her head. His room was a total mess: clothes were strewn on the floor, dust was flying from the whirling fan, and the music was pollution on its own. It was so embarrassing, especially with a guest coming to sleep here.

“Bill we have guests, help me clean up,” She groaned patiently and started picking up his clothes.

As the two switched out the sheets and cleaned the teenage mess, the men entered the house. Mr. Davis tried to be a good host and show around, but Bill still hadn't turned down his music. He sighed and faced the two but Greg was bopping his head to the music. Mr. Davis raised an eyebrow in question.

“Groovy music, Mr. D. Hell I want that room!” Greg giggled and snorted before grabbing his suitcase.

“Well sure, Greg... that's my oldest son's room, Bill,” the man surrendered and watched as Greg made his way up.

Schoolgirl sweetie with a classy kinda sassy
little skirt's climbin' way up the knee!
there was three young ladies in the school gym locker
when I noticed they was lookin' at me!

Mrs. Davis smoothed the blanket into place as her eldest son leaned back into his desk chair. The woman was tired and was on her last nerve with the music. She walked over to the record player and finally turned the damn thing off, nearly scratching the record in the process.

“Mom! Don’t do that!” Bill yelled and stood up to inspect the precious plastic.

“I told you many times to turn it down, so off it goes. It’s nearly three in the morning; you should be going to bed,” Mrs. Davis interjected as she put her hand son her hips.

“Well where am I supposed to go?”

“Your brother’s room. You better not wake him either or I’ll wear your ass out. You are not too big yet, William.”

Bill mumbled as he grabbed his pajamas and exited the room; the nearly pushed Greg back down the stairs in the force of the teenage boy. Greg just shrugged and rolled his eyes at the punk before he entered the room; it was so much better then the rest of the clean cut modern house: rock ‘n roll posters were taped to the wall, there was a good sturdy desk, and sweet smell from the cleverly placed candle (not aerosol can). Mrs. Davis smiled as she showed the room to Greg.

“I hope it’s to your liking. As long as nothing is broken, it’s yours for the week,” she smiled tiredly.

“Thank you Mrs. D. Both you and your husband are angels for letting us in so late,” Greg returned her smile.

The woman lightly blushed at his words and made her way out of Bill’s room. Greg watched her leave and smirked; she had a helluva body for a woman almost twenty years his senior: dark blonde waves, round hazel eyes, and a bright cheery smile. Mr. Davis had good taste. Greg could tell by her tense shoulders though that things weren’t kind to her around here. Oh well, she did deserve that heckling earlier, like he was going to take that back.

The young man looked around the room then laid his suitcase on the bed. He sighed and shut the door; not really caring about Mike moving in to his room. Lying on the bed, Greg let out a long tired sigh; as much as his body was tired, his mind was still skipping through thoughts like a motor’s gears winding in his head. It was time for a visit from Miss Jane. The young man reached into his pocket as he stood again to open the window; the hit wouldn’t be as strong, but he didn’t want to get his ass kicked out. The cool breeze of Los Angeles blew in as he lit the small white stick and held the “sleep medication” to his lips.

Greg blew out into the wind as the magic began.