Clock in the Sky

Chapter Three

New Clothes and a Job

Author's Note: Just so you know, I'm aware that there's a terrible lack of Monkees fic on this site (and on the internet in general), so I'm not really expecting anyone to review. Not that I don't want you to, it's just that I know there's not a huge Monkees fan base out there anymore, not like Harry Potter. Yeah. I just felt like I had to say that.

Happy 62nd Birthday to Micky Dolenz!

Disclaimer: The exterior and name of the record shop came from a real groovy little shop in downtown West Des Moines, Iowa, called Atomic Garage. If you're ever in the area, you should totally stop by there.

Author's Note Part II (02/13/09): Blah, blah, blah, changed things. Yeah.

There was a knock on the door at one-thirty. Mike, Micky, and Davy were playing a card game at the kitchen table with Mr. Schneider, and I was listening to Peter play Cripple Creek on his banjo. Mike went to the door and opened the peep hole, then closed it with a snap.

"It's Babbitt!" he exclaimed quietly, spinning around to face us. Peter stopped playing, and Micky and Davy looked up from their cards. "Man, if he finds out Audrey's staying here, he'll want to raise the rent!"

"I'll hide," I said, and hurried into the spare room. I listened through the door.

"Why, hello, Mr. Babbitt!" said Mike, in an almost too cheery voice. "What brings you here?"

"I want this month's rent," demanded Babbitt.

There was a short silence. I tried to keep from laughing. They don't have it, do they?

"We're a little short on cash right now, Mr. Babbitt," said Mike, "but we got a gig on Thursday, we can pay you then."

"You're always late on your rent – "

"Hey, man," said Micky, "it's Christmas, give us a break!"

Another short silence. "Fine. But I expect to see it on Thursday, or it's out you go!" The door slammed.

Melanie arrived an hour later, carrying two white shopping bags and a pair of white, knee-high go-go boots under one arm. She was about my height, and had light brown hair and blue eyes. After giving Davy a quick kiss and getting introduced to me, she led me into the spare room (which was now my room). She dropped the bags and the books on the bed and turned around to face me, smiling.

"Davy told me about your amnesia on the phone," she said, "so I brought a few different outfits. What's your shoe size?"

"Um..." I kicked off my flip-flop and looked for the number. "The, uh, number's worn off."

She took it from me and held it up to one of the boots. She nodded. "It looks about the same. Here, try this on."

Luckily, it turned out that we both wore the same shoe and clothing size. She gave me three outfits (two of which could be worn with the white go-go boots) and a pair of pajamas. The first outfit was a black bell bottoms patterned with red and yellow daisy-like flowers, and a plain red long-sleeved shirt. The second was a green and blue horizontally-striped skirt with a blue and white plastic daisy pin on the hip, that ended at just above my knees, and a white sleeveless turtleneck sweater. The last outfit was tan, straight-legged pants with a wide black belt, and a red t-shirt. The pajamas were pale blue pants and a loose white t-shirt. She also gave me a light jacket.

"Now, your hair..." She studied me for a moment (I was wearing the turtleneck outfit), then pulled a hairbrush and a thick, green ribbon out of one of the shopping bags. "There's a few other colors in the bag, but I think green's the best for that skirt." She brushed out my hair and tied it back like a headband. "There. Now I need to take you shopping."

I turned to look at her. "For what?"

She laughed lightly. "Well, I can't exactly give you any of my brassieres and panties!"

I mentally kicked myself. Of course. "I don't have any money."

She patted my knee. "Don't worry about it. You can't exactly ask the boys to pay for your underwear. And you may eventually need certain toiletries," I nodded to show I understood, "and a toothbrush, toothpaste, that kind of stuff. Makeup too." She stood up.

"Thanks for all this, Melanie," I said, standing up as well. "I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

"Don't mention it." She led me toward the door. "Now it's time to go shopping."

Melanie dropped me off at the Pad around four o'clock, with bags of underwear, socks, and bathroom stuff. Melanie had also bought me a pair of red canvas sneakers and some red and orange love beads as my Christmas present. Micky was on the couch watching TV when I walked in. The others were nowhere to be seen.

"Hey Audrey," Micky said, not looking away from the screen. "Did you have fun shopping?"

"Yeah," I said, taking off my jacket. "Where is everyone?"

Micky shrugged. Then he looked up at me. "Oh, did you want to go down to the record shop now?"

"Sure, just let me change." I headed for my room. "I don't think I like skirts much."

A few minutes later, I was dressed in the tan pants and red shirt, plus my new red shoes and love beads. I pulled my jacket on as I followed Micky out to the garage. He pulled up the garage door, and I stared in awe at the Monkee Mobile.

"Wow," was all I could say.

Micky laughed. "Groovy, isn't it?" I nodded. "Come on."

A five-minute car ride later (during which Micky told me as much as possible about the current music scene), Micky parked outside the record shop. The outside of the place was painted with bright, swirling colors, and the sign above the door read in a font that screamed sixties, "Atomic Music." There was a help wanted sign taped near the door, and Micky pulled it down and handed it to me as we walked inside.

I followed Micky between rows of LP records to the register at the back of the store, where a man I recognized vaguely from The Monkees pilot episode sat writing something down on a yellow legal pad.

"Hey Rudy!" greeted Micky, and the man looked up.

"Hi Mick," he said, and put the pad aside. "You looking for a record?"

Micky shook his head. "No, Audrey here's looking for a job," he said, gesturing at me. I handed Rudy the help wanted sign. "Audrey, this is Rudy Gunther."

Rudy smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?"

Crap, I thought. "Uh – "

"Dolenz," Micky offered suddenly, and I tried to keep myself from giving him a strange look. "She's my cousin, from San Francisco."

Rudy frowned at him. "I didn't know you had any cousins."

Micky just smiled. "Neither did I."

Rudy just rolled his eyes at Micky's strangeness and shook my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Dolenz."

"Uh, thanks," I said nervously. "You too."

"So you want the job?" he asked, and I nodded. "What sort of experience do you have?"

I thought of the job I had at Best Buy in Montana, but decided it would be best not to mention an electronics store that I was pretty sure wouldn't exist for a few more decades. "This'll be my first job."

Rudy nodded. "Okay, so what's your bag?"

I frowned, though I knew very well what 'bag' meant. "'Bag'?"

"What sort of music are you into?" he clarified.

"Oh." I tried to remember which bands Micky had mentioned in the car. "Well, the Beatles, the Beach Boys, the Birds, We Five, the Temptations..."

I trailed off when Rudy nodded. "Okay, you can have the job."

I grinned. "Wow, really?"

"Yeah. You can start on tomorrow at eleven. I'll pay you $1.25 an hour."

After sorting out a few other details with Rudy, Micky and I headed back to the pad. "How'd it go?" Mike asked when we walked in. It was almost five o'clock, and Peter was stirring something in a pot on the stove. Davy was looking for something to watch on TV, and Mike was reading at the kitchen table while keeping an eye on Peter.

"I got the job," I said happily. I was surprised it had been so easy. "I start tomorrow at eleven."

Micky sat next to Davy on the couch. "Hey, if anyone asks, she's Audrey Dolenz, my cousin from San Francisco."

Mike frowned at him. "What d'ya mean? Didn't you tell Rudy she has amnesia?"

"Would you hire a girl who can't remember anything about music at a record store?"

"Oh. Good point."

Author's Note: That's all for now. Leave a review! I heart you all!