Patrick was in town, so he came to see the show. One of Mikey’s favorite things about being famous was when people in other bands he liked came to see them.
Of course, when it was Patrick, who Mikey had played Warhammer with and slept on and watched piss, it was less cool than if it was, like, Brandon Flowers. Or Morrissey! Mikey still lived in hope that one day Morrissey would come backstage and talk to him forever. Also he would be able to tell, without prompting, that Mikey was the one who got Gerard into The Smiths in the first place. (One of Mikey’s least favorite things about being famous was that there were so many more people to not understand that Mikey was the awesome cool one with amazing taste in music, and Gerard was the one who would still be listening to nothing but Poison and Thunder if he’d been left to his own devices.
Not that there was anything wrong with Poison. And Gerard doing impromptu Thunder-kareoke in his hotel room the night before, jumping from bed to bed and making a man-pain fist in the air every other line was seriously the funniest thing Mikey had ever seen, and his sides still hurt. From laughing, but also from when Gerard missed and sent them both crashing into the dresser.
They broke a lamp. The housekeeping chick was mad.)
Still, it was cool, and it was awesome to see Patrick anyway. He was never around; he was always off fostering new musical talent or failing to get to Antarctica. Pete was always doing those things too, but at least he still found time to hang.
“That’s because the two of you treat your Sidekicks like Holodecks.” Patrick rolled his eyes. “Traditionally, it’s not actually considered ‘hanging’ if you’re not in the same room.”
Mikey shook his head. “That’s such a twentieth-century attitude, man. Move with the groove, you know what I’m saying?”
Patrick laughed. “Move with the groove?”
“Whatever.” Mikey sat on the couch and started digging in the little freezer he still couldn’t believe he was allowed to put on the rider. “You want a popsicle?”
Patrick took his hat off, pushed his hand through his hair, and put the hat back on again. “Sure,” he shrugged, sitting down next to Mikey.
Mikey handed him a strawberry-kiwi one. Patrick seemed like a strawberry-kiwi kind of guy.
“Hey, these are my favorite!” Patrick said happily, tearing the paper off.
Mikey mentally gave himself a point, and opened his own popsicle. “What’d you think of the show, man?”
“Awesome,” said Patrick. “Totally, you guys rocked.”
Mikey nodded. They ate their popsicles in silence and watched Worm yell at Frank for signing some chick’s dollar bill.
“Are you gonna miss this?” Patrick said after a while. “When you go on break?”
Mikey chased a drip with his tongue. “Nah. They sell ‘em at the store like a block away.”
Patrick nodded. “Is it true Gerard moved into the building across the street from you?”
Mikey said, “Yep.”
“You guys,” Patrick laughed. He tipped his head back and levered a broken piece of popsicle directly into his mouth. Mikey was impressed. That was a veteran move. “Pete wants us to get video phones. You know, in our houses?”
“Like Demolition Man,” said Mikey.
Patrick beamed at him from under his hat. “Exactly! But I don’t know. I forsee a lot of him ‘forgetting’ he hasn’t hung up.”
Mikey laughed. “That would be the awesome part!”
“That’s what he said.” Patrick nibbled the melty edge of his popsicle. “Also he wants a cat.”
“That’s just because he petted some kittens with Brendon and now he thinks he understands the feline mind,” Mikey observed. “Having cats and dogs in the house is serious business.”
“Yes,” Patrick said somberly. “I can tell by the way you named them Bunny Marie and Piglet.”
“Piglet Tree,” Mikey corrected him.
Patrick laughed and slurped up some juice. “Popsicles are awesome.”
“Yup,” Mikey said.