Gretchen didn't know what to do. All conversation had stopped, and the club was as quiet as a tomb. Every eye in the place seemed to be on her, waiting to see how she would react. Gretchen was not used to being in the spotlight. She felt embarrassed, bashful and mortified in the same breath.
Yet, Michael had shown that he had noticed her enough to make his mini announcement, and that tickled her and sent chills through her. He was usually very quiet, and yet he'd stuck his neck out to make it a point of letting her know that he was aware of her, maybe had even been hoping she'd show up. She needed to acknowledge that.
"Thank you, Michael!" she cried, trying to act confident, even though she was feeling anything but. She spied the table in front where Shannon was seated, and rushed over to slip into the seat next to Shannon in hopes everyone would stop staring at her.
Michael, feeling a bit harebrained, made sure they went right into their next number. He couldn't imagine what had possessed him to do that, except that he really liked Gretchen, and he wanted her to know it. And what better way to tell her? This way, she couldn't argue, or reject him.
Brilliant, Nesmith.
But he was still afraid she might think what he had done was absurd. Davy was trying to cover his smile. He was genuinely pleased that Mike seemed to like Gretchen so much. Shannon immediately slipped her arm around Gretchen, giving her a sideways hug. "Oh my God, Gretchen! I guess you were right about there being a connection!" she whispered this in Gretchen's ear so Michael wouldn't figure out what was being said.
Michael saw though, and it was apparent to him that Shannon could hardly cover the fact that she was happy for Gretchen. And the smile on Gretchen's face was priceless. So… you did the right thing for once, he thought to himself. Now he was going to be fighting bashfulness when they went on break because he'd have to face Gretchen. What if she asked him why he'd done it? Honesty was always best though… Peter was constantly reminding everyone of that. So he'd simply say that he'd been very glad to see her. Short and sweet, and straight to the point.
At break, Peter and Shannon were discussing Mrs. Becker. "I promised her we'd bring her over to see the treehouse and to meet Geisha, and we haven't done it yet," said Shannon.
"I know. Just pick a day and time, and I'll be there." Peter was so amicable and harmonious. Shannon loved the fact that they never argued about anything. They might have slight disagreements, but neither of them ever got rankled. They just met somewhere in the middle. He must be a breeze to live with. No wonder the other guys all thought so much of him.
"Let's do it Tuesday. I have to work Monday."
"Okay. What do you think they're talking about?" Peter hadn't moved his head, only his eyes had moved a fraction of an inch in the direction of Gretchen and Mike, who were sitting together on the same side of the table, next to Shannon and Peter.
"I don't know, but Mike came right over and sat down next to her, instead of across from her," said Shannon.
"You know, I'm proud of him. He's basically shy, and he's really pushing himself. You don't know how hard that must be for him," commented Peter. Michael was leaning in close to Gretchen to catch what she was saying, and he was rapt about absorbing her every word.
"Shannon!" Gretchen hardly waited until the guys had climbed back on stage. "What do I do? Michael keeps acting like he wants to say something, but then he doesn't… he's unsure."
"Yes, he is, Gretchen. Peter said he's really pushing himself as it is. So he's probably trying to get up the nerve to say whatever it is. But don't worry about it, just give it time."
"I know, I know. Wing it!" And they both laughed.
Michael never did summon the nerve to tell Gretchen what he wanted to on that night, but hey… there'd be plenty of nights. His goodnight to her was clumsy when they dropped Gretchen and Shannon off at Shannon's house, and he hadn't even gotten Gretchen's phone number. Peter felt like shoving Michael toward Gretchen as hard as he could. He'd never do that, of course, but he sometimes felt like that's what it would take for Michael to come out with it, whatever it was. Or to even touch her.
Peter was addled by Davy's behavior in the coming days. Davy lingered on Peter's bed at night, talking. This wasn't unusual behavior—it was just that Davy was prolonging the talks, as if he didn't want to leave Peter's side. Peter noted to himself to talk to Shannon about it. He told Shannon everything. There were no secrets between them, and he would make sure there never would be. But he'd like to get a little feedback from her about what Davy's intentions were. Was Davy insecure about something? Wanted Peter's consolation or support? Or was he just eager to talk? Shannon was good at reading people, so he planned to talk to her tomorrow.
Right now, Davy was sitting closer to Peter than he normally did, incredibly close- almost touching him. Davy attracted Peter, always had. Peter was trying to ignore the pull of the considerable charm Davy was dousing him in. Peter was convinced they both were positively coated in that slippery enchanting air that Davy exuded, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the adept Davy would slip right out of his grasp, were he to make a grab for him.
Davy was talking about practice… or something… Peter wasn't sure. That was because he couldn't get his brain to function in its normal mode. Davy's nearness was short circuiting all his neurons.
Peter had always thought he and Davy had a special connection, although he'd never seen behavior on Davy's part that would indicate Davy had a crush on him. Peter's crush on Davy was another story. It was quite prominent. He tried not to ever show it though.
Trouble was, everything about Davy was alluring. There wasn't a square inch on the guy that Peter didn't admire. Even down to his cute, pink little tongue. When Davy ate an ice cream cone, to watch was pure joy, or torture, depending on how you wanted to look at it. Davy, undressing at night for bed, the muscles that rippled in his biceps made Peter's mouth go dry. His hard abdomen, even the scar where he'd had his appendectomy turned Peter on. His thighs were muscled too, from running and from his former days of daily horseback riding at the track. And who could ignore that sweet, firm little butt? What was most arresting of all, though, was his smile. It could cause you to drop dead on the spot. Peter sometimes found himself just waiting to catch a smile from Davy, or actually doing or saying things to try to prompt a smile from the Brit. Davy's giggle was totally compelling. Peter's own laughter could absolutely not be governed when Davy was laughing. So, Peter realized he was precariously weak, vulnerable, where Davy was concerned. And that bothered him… a lot. Peter did take pride in the fact that he was keeping his hands off Davy right now. Davy was being insufferably cute, and Peter feared his defenses might not hold up much longer.
Davy was covert about it. He flirted just enough. He didn't do anything obvious. Just threw half concealed hints around, and somehow managed to maintain a low profile while he was at it. He let it be known to Peter that he fancied him, while at the same time doing it cleverly and discreetly.
Man, he needed to talk to Shannon about this. He'd never lay a hand on Davy unless Shannon knew about it, or Shannon were actually present. But, was it normal to feel this kind of attraction? He couldn't very well ask Davy. So he just went along with Davy's almost imperceptible flirting as best he could manage. He did wonder if Davy would be receptive if he touched him the way he had the other night. But he didn't do it. He had to speak to Shannon first. Besides that, he didn't have the balls anyway.
It always ended the same way-the way it did tonight. "Well mate. Time for bed," and Davy scooted over to his own bed saying "have sweet dreams of me," and then completely disappeared under the covers. How did he breathe under there? It never failed to bring a chuckle from Peter.
G'night, love, thought Peter.
Maybe Davy thought Peter hadn't noticed, but whenever Peter turned around when he was in the kitchen, living room, or bedroom, Davy was always only a step or two behind him, effectively giving the illusion of keeping himself occupied, as if he weren't following Peter. This was new behavior, and hadn't started until Peter had touched his leg.
"Davy's been real friendly with me lately," said Peter the next time he saw Shannon. He didn't stay with her every night, just on Sundays and perhaps once or twice during the week. Gretchen was there on the weekends, and besides that, he feared she'd get weary of him, and he loved how she was always gladdened to see him again, even if they'd only been separated for a few hours. He longed for that—being wanted, needed. The guys were really great too, but it was just different with someone you were falling in love with.
He's disarming, Shannon was thinking. And that offset belt buckle of his was surely going to be the death of her. Somehow, some way, she found it sexy, and the way he sort of swaggered when he walked made him even more enticing. She was trying to concentrate on what Peter was saying now, training her eyes to look at his face, not his belt buckle.
"He has? In what way?"
"Well, before bed, when I stay at the Pad. He sits on my bed like he's always done, and we talk. But lately he's been… sitting really close to me. Almost close enough to brush up against me. He's sneaky about it, pretending everything is the same, but something's different."
"How do you feel about it?" Peter had Shannon's full attention.
"I… I'm not sure. I mean… I like it," sputtered Peter." But… I'm not sure how to act." Peter looked to Shannon for guidance, because he sure as hell didn't want her mad at him if he were to cross the line in any way.
"You like it…" Shannon considered this tidbit of information critically. She dissected it in her head, trying to find the significance. But what she came up with was there wasn't any—significance, that is. It was simple, really. The guys were just attracted to each other. Attracted as friends, confidants, fellow adventurers, and evidently, there was a latent sexuality lying dormant, and beginning to surface.
"Yes, I don't know if I should be liking it… or not," Peter fidgeted, his eyes sweeping around the room. Not really seeing anything, but searching for words to define his feelings.
"I'm so glad you're telling me," Shannon rushed to say that before he withdrew out of shame. "It's nothing to worry about."
"What should I be doing, though?" He was seeking an answer, maybe even permission—she could see that plainly.
"Whatever you feel you want, or need, or… Peter, understand this. I won't judge you or be horrified or… extract myself from you. You do know that, don't you?"
"I wasn't positive, but now that you've reassured me…"
"I'll tell you something… I thought it was exciting when we both put our hand on Davy's leg that night. It gave me tingles," she couldn't believe she was admitting this to Peter, but he needed the reassurance. "Tell me what it did to you," she coaxed.
"Well, since you confessed, I guess I should too. I was feeling very affectionate toward him, and … I did feel tingles too, like you said. I even started to get hard."
Shannon tried to stifle her gasp. Now she knew for sure. It wasn't just the brotherly love type of thing—he really was sexually attracted to Davy; putting his hand on Davy's leg had elicited a physical response. Fascinating…
"But Shannon… "Peter went on. "How… where do I go from here?" Those hazel eyes of his were imploring, looking to her for solace, support. In this unguarded moment, she saw his turmoil. She shook her head slowly. Peter couldn't hide a thing from her, nor did he have any desire to.
"Well, Peter. I think we both know the answer to that one…"
"Wing it," they said in unison, and both began to laugh, effectively breaking the ice and finally convincing Peter that he didn't need to brood or stew over it. What would be, would be, and he had Shannon's love and support, no matter what.
Mrs. Becker had been over to see the treehouse. Peter and Shannon had gone to pick her up, and there had been an endless stream of "oohs and ahhs" coming from the old woman's mouth as she took in the treehouse. It had taken her ten full minutes to climb the steps, and Shannon had begun to wonder if Peter shouldn't just carry her up. He was strong, and Mrs. Becker wasn't overly heavy. But she'd finally made it on her own steam.
"It's not only original, it's homey too!" she exclaimed in wonder, her sharp eyes taking in everything.
"And here's Nicholson… er…Jack, happy as can be with Geisha," said Mrs. Becker as she bent over to pet both cats. "Geisha is a real beauty," she murmured.
"Actually, we call him Jack Nicholson. That way he can keep the name he's used to," said Shannon.
Mrs. Becker laughed. "Now, how ingenious is that?" she said. She ended up staying for lunch, and a few hours after that too. They had sandwiches of leftover roast beef, and Mrs. Becker seemed to really enjoy her visit. When Peter went to the bathroom, Mrs. Becker whispered to Shannon. "That's such a polite, sweet young man. I'd cage him if I were you. Padlock him in, and throw away the key. Take this to heart-you'll be sorry if you ever let him get away."
Shannon laughed easily. "I think the world of him. And I agree—he's about as sweet as any guy I've ever met," agreed Shannon. "I have no plans on letting him loose."
"And if he does get loose, I sure hope you'll be chasing him down!" stressed Mrs. Becker, her bright eyes sparkling. She was quite the lively one, thought Shannon.
"You've got that right!" Shannon was delighted to have such an endearing person as her friend. She couldn't believe it. Only two or three months ago she'd only had Gretchen as a friend. Now she also had Peter, Davy, Mike, Micky and Mrs. Becker too.
"Oh, look!" Mrs. Becker was watching the variety of cats on Shannon's deck. The cats that were supposed to belong to Mrs. Becker. "At least half of them are here! I think they like playing at your treehouse… and your hospitality."
The three of them went outside and sat on the glider and enjoyed the bit of ocean view. Mrs. Becker loved the dappled shade from the trees, and being up high, giving them the ability to survey their surroundings. She watched and listened to the house swallows fluttering about. "The ones with the black bibs are the males," Mrs. Becker informed them, pointing to the birds.
"Well, I learned something new today," said Shannon.
"It's a little slice of Heaven up here, isn't it?"
"That's almost exactly how Peter and I refer to it," said Shannon.
"And your daddy built it for you… oh my, what a marvelous father he must be."
"That he certainly is."
"There's where I live," Peter pointed to the Pad.
"Oh, you two live very close!" Mrs. Becker smiled. That was when Shannon and Peter told her all about the Monkees and the fact that the band lived together at the Pad. It was a day well spent, and Shannon felt warm and fuzzy inside when they dropped Mrs. Becker off back at her own home.
"We'll have to have her over again," said Peter.
"Yes, she doesn't have a dull bone in her, does she?"
"No, she's really special, Shannon," and Peter drew her in to hold her close. She savored his mastery at the art of hugging, never tiring of it, craving it day in and day out. He seemed to be pulling her into his heart.
"Maybe, just maybe, she'll agree to be my pseudo-grandma," Shannon said wistfully.
Michael had just announced the owner of the Green Mist wanted them to play several more times before deciding about a contract.
"You're crackers!" Davy was fit to be tied. You know the Vertigo just called yesterday, and they've decided to take us on for a month. It may be less money, but it's a sure thing, it is." protested Davy.
"Sometimes you gotta play hardball," drawled Mike, seemingly unconcerned, both arms stretched out on the couch, his body and legs sprawled in so many directions that he almost took up the entire couch all by himself. The others, full of tension, stayed on their feet and practically paced, the level of stress in the living room hanging heavy. "I told them how much we'd be getting at the Green Mist too," Mike's voice was laced with a distinct trace of satisfaction.
"David, isn't a chance at long term security better than a dicey, possibly short term one?" Micky wanted to know.
"Wait now… David has a point. It might be a little precarious," admitted Michael. "But the music business is like that, any way you look at it. Sometimes you gotta just gamble a little… or a lot."
"What did the Vertigo say when you told them how much the Green Mist was offering?" Peter's eyes were dubious. Not that he lacked faith in Mike, but perhaps Mike was being just a little too complacent in this case.
"Not much. But I got the feeling they aren't no way, no how, going to match the Green Mist's offer. Which isn't surprising. Their establishment isn't as fancy, so they don't pull in as much money."
"So… if we keep playing while waiting to see if the Green Mist decides for or against a contract, the Vertigo can always find another band. One that doesn't mind not having a contract," Micky's face had turned pale. "And they might keep doing that, not inviting us back again, because they think we're wanting them to jump through hoops, and they don't want the hassle."
"Could happen," Michael nodded. "But if we do get a contract with the Green Mist, we'll be set. For one, they'll pay us a lot more, and number two, their contract will be longer term. Three months versus one. We also have the chance of getting a six month contract if we continue to bring in the business for them. None of that applies to the Vertigo. Their contract is shit when you compare. You guys know, you've all read the sample one he gave us."
"And if we don't get in with the Green Mist, we could end up back at ground zero-searching again for clubs that'll pay us enough to barely get by," Davy had a hang dog look on his face. "I don't want to go back to that again…wondering if we'll even get a gig from one weekend to the next."
"Trust me, guys. If we keep playing like we have, the customers will keep coming, and it won't take the Green Mist long to decide in our favor. After all, they're just as afraid of losing us as we are of losing them. Or they will be… they just have to be completely convinced. I think it'll be another two weeks max, before they call us with the affirmation."
Mike was the leader, after all, and the others depended on him because he was the one with the business sense. He was shrewd, he was no-nonsense, and he gave as good as he got. He was tough and uncompromising, yet fair. He knew they were worth it. So, then and there, they all decided they would continue to put all their trust in Michael, the way they had since the beginning. Maybe times had been hard in the past, but Mike hadn't failed them yet.
Davy and Peter went running by Shannon's house on the trail one morning, and stopped to say hello, and accept Shannon's offer of a cool drink. Peter was quite pleased with himself that he could now keep up with Davy… most of the time. The only time he dropped behind now was when Davy sprinted.
"How'd work go yesterday?" asked Peter as they sat on the deck.
"Same crap. Carol being a bitch and Gretchen and I only able to tolerate it because we have each other," Shannon smiled to take the sting out of her words. "Don't misunderstand though, I'm grateful to have a job. I'm just glad I don't have to be there full time."
"What about another store?" asked Davy.
"Oh, I wouldn't want to leave. I'm a creature of habit, a bit afraid of change. Well, a lot afraid of change. And after all, Gretchen's there, so it's bearable. I don't mean to complain…" Shannon felt like she was being a downer.
Davy and Peter told her about the pending contract with the Green Mist, and the discussion they'd all had with Mike over it.
"Sounds a little risky," she said.
"That's what we said too, but Mike is adamant. And you know Mike… he doesn't back down easily," said Davy.
Shannon nodded in sympathy. She sure hoped the guys didn't end up again like they'd been in the past, with an empty cupboard and the rent overdue, just because of Mike's pride. He was looking out for all their best interests, she realized that, but then again, he was so hard driving that she was afraid he'd scare off the Vertigo, and then they'd have nothing to fall back on if they didn't get the contract they were holding out for.
When the guys got up to leave, Shannon hugged them, as was now a habit. Peter first, then Davy. "Uh… we've been running," Davy's voice sounded troubled as he backed up a step. "I probably stink."
Peter laughed out loud. "David, you could go a week without a bath and not stink!"
Peter spoke the truth. When Shannon hugged Davy, he smelled just as pleasant as he always did. Peter had his unique inviting fresh sweat smell, which aroused Shannon. His pheromones really agreed with her. In any case, neither of them was the least bit offensive.
As it turned out, Mike was right, which happened more often than not. The Green Mist called later that week, offering them a three month contract, then, contingent on how things went, six months, and then, assuming things continued to go well, the contract would extend to a year. The guys jumped up and down all over the Pad, with Peter jumping the highest, and Mike trying to be dignified, but unable to hide a very relieved grin. Holding his ground had paid off. He wiped his brow. Whew.
"Alright Mike, I've heard about enough of this," Davy's fuse was sometimes short when other guys couldn't seem to handle girls the way he did effortlessly. Mike had finally told all of them of his attraction to Gretchen.
"We already knew before you told us because you made it hard to not notice it last weekend at the club. But now you're whining about wanting to take her out on a date. But, for God's sake, why don't you just call her, man?" The aggravation prickled at Davy.
"I don't know what to say," Michael looked like he was ready to run and hide. Cool, confident Mike where business was concerned, but another story altogether when women came into the picture. Davy was just so damn self-assured when it came to girls. Mike envied him to no end. Davy didn't understand Mike's anguish. Probably because Mike doubted Davy had ever once been turned down. Mike was almost ready to get up and go into his bedroom and flop down on the bed to pout when Davy came up with a brilliant idea, or so he thought.
"I'll prompt you!" Davy's eyes twinkled.
"I don't have her number."
"Now, don't give me that bullshit. Shannon has it—all you have to do is ask her for it."
Mike nodded, kissing that excuse goodbye. After thinking for a minute, Mike reluctantly agreed.
"If you'll really prompt me like you said, I'll do it."
Davy smiled, those bright, white, perfect teeth gleaming, and Peter's stomach went all mushy.
"That's the spirit, mate! Now… let's get her number from Shannon."
"Tonight? Why right away?" Mike looked to be in flight mode again.
"Why not tonight? You have to do it sometime, so let's get on with it!" Davy then dialed Shannon's number as Peter rattled it off for him. When she picked up the phone, Shannon was in a playful mood. After giving the number to Davy, she said, "Come on over, and bring Peter. We'll touch your leg," then she burst into laughter.
"I might just take you up on that!" Davy teased back, then finished the call and handed the number over to Mike.
"What was that last part about you might take her up on it?" asked Mike. Peter was also paying close attention.
"Oh, just an inside joke. Come on, let's get crackin'"!
Thankfully, Mike was so nervous about calling Gretchen that he promptly forgot all about the "inside joke," and quickly dialed Gretchen's number before his nerve failed him.
It didn't go over very well with Davy prompting him. But they got through it. Davy listened on the ear piece, whispered to Mike what he should say, then Mike spoke into the mouthpiece. But with Davy having to repeat her every word, then advise Mike how to respond, Mike's answers were so slow that Gretchen was mystified. What was wrong with Mike? Why did he take forever to tell her how he was doing, which was a pretty simple question?
In any case, together, Mike and Davy succeeded in getting Gretchen to agree to a movie. After the shockingly short conversation, they said goodbye, and she hung up, faintly bewildered.
Afterward, when Peter and Davy were in their bedroom, Peter asked Davy about the "inside joke." Davy told him what Shannon had said. "Do you think she was serious?" he asked Davy.
"Who knows. Women are funny, you can't take anything for granted. Let's just assume she was joking. That's the safest route. Otherwise, we might really offend her."
Mike's date with Gretchen was set for Sunday, the day after their next gig. Mike was useless on Saturday, because he knew he'd be seeing Gretchen at the gig, and Gretchen would have every opportunity to tell him she'd reconsidered going on the date. So now Mike was hung up on Gretchen turning him down. Mike told himself he was being preposterous, but he couldn't get past the thought. They tried to practice that morning, but due to Mike's malaise caused by high emotions, they had to give up on it. Everyone knew what the problem was, and no one breathed a word of it, knowing Mike might very well storm at them. They'd been faithful with their practice sessions though, and no one was worried about how their performance would be that night.
All went well that night, Gretchen showing every sign of being delighted to see Mike, although he was still privately convincing himself she was just putting on a show, only to let him down. When they went on break later on, Mike was so overcome that he went outside to sit on the curb, and stare into space. His gut was in knots. He'd hardly looked down at Gretchen from the stage at all.
Suddenly, he heard light foot steps behind him. "Michael, what are you doing out here?"
Gretchen. Oh no… this was it. She'd sought him out to break the news to him that she didn't want to go out tomorrow, after all. He'd known deep inside that it was going to happen, and now he had to buck up and face it.
"Hi Gretchen," he croaked out. "I just needed some air, I guess. Sorta spacing out."
She said down on the curb beside him. "Oh… are you sick? Do we need to tell the manager we need to take you home?" There was real concern on her face, but of course, being a nice girl, she'd be empathetic with anyone.
"No, no… not sick. Just… I don't know. A little edgy, I guess."
"In a bad mood?" Gretchen wondered if he wanted to be alone.
"No, not a bad mood."
"You know, I'm really looking forward to seeing a movie with you tomorrow," she said shyly. She was too shy to say the word "date."
Michael looked directly into her eyes for the first time since she'd come out the club door. "You are?"
What a funny question, she thought.
"Funny, I thought you were… going to tell me you'd thought better of it," he admitted.
"Oh my gosh, no! I really enjoy our talks…" she was too embarrassed to tell him how much she enjoyed his company in general. How intelligent she thought he was, how engaging, once he let his guard down.
The two of them were happy campers for the rest of the evening. Michael looked at her often from his place on the stage, not quite smiling, but definitely more confident. It showed in every aspect of his demeanor. The other band members sighed in relief. Apparently, Mike and Gretchen had talked while they'd been outside, and something had cleared up Mike's uncertainty, finally settling him enough so that he was able to focus. Luckily, his distraction over Gretchen had not affected his playing or singing tonight, thanks to the long hours they put in every week. He was better able to apply himself here than at practice, as keeping the Green Mist's customers had to be a top priority.
When the Monkeemobile dropped off Shannon and Gretchen that night, Micky at the wheel, Davy slipped out too, as he had to use Shannon's bathroom. "Drank too much iced tea," he said to Shannon, blushing slightly. Shannon threw him the keys.
Shannon and Peter kissed good night, using caution, having learned a lesson not to get too carried away, and Gretchen and Mike were talking quietly about twenty feet away. As Davy came back out of the treehouse, Shannon and Peter had been giggling at some obscure joke as he came down the stairs. When Davy went to hand Shannon the keys, she beckoned him closer so she could whisper in his ear.
"Why don't you come over with Peter tomorrow night?" Her voice was flirtatious, and he couldn't tell if she was kidding or not. Alright, so she'd had three Tom Collins cocktails tonight, but she wasn't slurring or otherwise acting blitzed. She was just giggling and acting silly like she had on the phone with him the other night, but, boy, were her eyes full of mischief…
