The four men sat around on their usual seats in the living room. Frank was sprawled across the couch, hugging a pillow and wallowing in his hangover misery, his feet on Ray’s lap. Mikey sat sideways on an armchair that had seen better days and that smelled strongly like some sort of a rodent might use it as a toilet, and his long legs were hanging out over the armrest. Gerard had taken over the other armchair, legs on the coffee table. The one thing in common for all of them were the bottles of beer they all had in their hands, and the sour looks on their faces.
Baywatch was on, but with Frank’s sudden outrage a few weeks ago, they no longer had a TV. Frank wasn’t in their favor anymore. Pamela Anderson’s boobs were basically the only thing that could have brought some joy into their miserable lives. Honestly, life could not be any worse.
Well, that’s what they thought.
The doorbell rang. Instantly, all of their heads shot up from the previous lolling positions, and they looked at each other in panic. They didn’t get many visitors, and the few that they did get were after money they didn’t have.
“Do you think it’s Ike?” Ray asked, whispering in case they choose to pretend they’re not home.
“Could be,” Gerard said. “What will we do?”
“Okay, here’s the plan,” Frank announced. “We jump out of the window, hail a cab, and we get the fuck out of here. We can go to Mexico, get some sombreros, and learn Spanish.”
Ignoring Frank (because his idea was actually starting to seem like a pretty good one), Gerard went to the kitchen. He came back in a moment, carrying three sharp knives and one wooden butter knife. Frank reached for one of the sharp steely knives, and frowned when he was handed the wooden one. The doorbell rang again.
“Let’s not panic. It could just be the landlord or a girl scout or something,” Gerard said, but his words didn’t really have much effect because he was clutching the knife tight in his hand.
“Yeah, but it could also be a crazy lunatic who thinks we owe him money and isn’t afraid to kill whoever he has to in order to get that money,” Ray reminded.
“Oh no,” Frank sobbed, grabbing Mikey’s hand for comfort. “Is this the end of my young life? I’m too fabulous to die!”
The doorbell rang once more.
Slowly and steadily, the four of them headed to the door, and stood next to it, listening to any signs of someone still being outside. All four of them had their knives up and ready to attack if need be. They heard some rustling, like plastic, so Gerard shouted: “Fuck off!”
“Yeah! We’re not home! So go away!” Frank screeched, wailing around the wooden butter knife.
Gerard, Mikey and Ray exchanged a very serious look, and when Ray nodded, Mikey opened the door, and all four of them shouted profanities at the intruder, ready to attack. At first they thought there was no one there. Then, Ray happened to look downwards.
“Shut up! Frank! Just shut up!” he hollered to the rest of the band, who were still screaming.
This was nowhere near threatening, and it definitely wasn’t Ike. The young girl standing in front of them in the hall stared at them for a moment in shock, and then her bottom lip started to quiver and she lowered her head. They couldn’t see it, but they were sure she was crying.
She sat on a chair, her plastic bag on the floor next to it. She was looking down to her lap, not daring to face the four men. She wasn’t sure if they were good or bad. The very frightening thought that mother might’ve sent her here to her own gain had crossed her mind when she’d tried to find her way to this address. Of course she had read the letter, the one her mother wrote right before chucking her out of the trailer. It had been sealed, but she didn’t care. She had to know what she was getting herself into.
And what she found out in the letter blew her mind. Never in a million years would she have expected this. She wondered which ones of these four were them.
They were simply staring at her curiously. These men looked nothing like the ones she usually saw. Mother’s customers were always old and greasy, and father was quite old as well (but definitely not greasy), but these four were young and though they didn’t exactly look very trustworthy, they didn’t look too menacing at least...
“What’s your name?” one of them asked her. He had a bush of very curly hair on his head, and he was bigger than the others. Somehow, he still looked the nicest.
Olivia, who was far too shy for it to be a good thing, opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. So she stood up, crossed the floor to the couch they were sitting on and the letter to the one with dark longish hair. Olivia returned to her seat, wondering if they were going to throw her out, too.
Gerard took the envelope, took the paper out of it and quickly read it over. When he finished the short letter, he sighed. “Oh fuck,” Gerard groaned, threw the letter on the low couch table and said: “We have a sister.”
“What?!” Frank screeched. “I have a sister?!”
“No, you idiot! Me and Mikey!”
“But how is that possible?” Mikey asked while Frank settled back down on his seat.
“I dunno. It doesn’t say much, except that dad’s, well, her dad, too.”
“Well what the hell are we going to do with that thing?!” Frank asked. “Let’s throw her back in the hall!”
“We won’t do that,” Mikey calmly replied. “Does it say what her name is?”
“No,” Gerard said, flipping the paper over to check. “Girl, what’s your name?”
The girl had been silently following the conversation, and flinched when she was spoken to. “Olivia,” she finally replied, and a silence followed.
“Gee, didn’t Ike mention...” Mikey started after a long pause, and was interrupted.
“Yeah,” Gerard said, drawing a sharp breath. Well, that unravels the Olivia mystery.
“Dang, Don really has some explaining to do, doesn’t he?” Frank laughed, sensitive as always.
But Gerard and Mikey couldn’t stop staring at the girl. They now knew who it was that Ike threatened the life of, but that’s all. Where did this girl come from? And how did she exist without them knowing?