In the time that Sugar had established herself in the boys' lives, as well as their band, she had also managed to start a new monthly tradition—Girls' night at April's house. They were careful in their arrangements, always planning around the group's performance schedule. So far, Shug had learned how to carry herself in a slightly more ladylike fashion, while April was still mastering how to properly defend herself.
Sugar sat patiently as April twirled another hot curler into her hair. She couldn't help how odd it still sometimes felt, this whole idea of "dolling up" every now and then. "You sure about this, April?"
April paused as she pinned the curler into place. "Shug, sweetie, you never know when you're going to get another fancy booking." She smiled. "You need to be prepared. Besides, it never hurts to try something new. Your hair is growing so fast!" She playfully tugged at one of the girl's raven locks.
"I think it runs in the family," Sugar snickered. She had to admit that she rather liked being able to grow her hair long for a change. The sudden mental image of Mike wearing curlers was almost too much. She choked back a laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"...Nothin'." Before she gave herself an aneurysm from holding in her laughter, Shug tried for a subject change. "How are things with you an' Micky these days? Didn't you two have a date a couple nights ago or somethin'?"
A dash of pink ran across April's cheeks. "We had a little get-together, yes." She shyly pulled a piece of her own hair behind an ear.
Shug's face brightened. The grin on her friend's face was enough to let her know she was still rather smitten with the fluffy-headed drummer. She nudged her gently. "And?"
April straightened, resuming her dignified nature, though her smile betrayed her giddiness. "We had a lovely dinner, saw a very nice movie and then had a very exhilarating scientific discussion."
"Oh? Do tell." Shug crossed her arms, absolutely beaming.
The tall blonde gave her a light shove. "Sugar Nesmith, you naughty girl!" Shug nearly toppled off her seat, laughing. April pulled her upright again and fixed an errant curler. "We really did talk about science, silly girl. We somehow got on the subject of powering clocks with potatoes."
Sugar quirked an eyebrow, still half smirking. "Potatoes?"
"Well, that gave us both an idea," April continued. "So we thought maybe we could power my old hairdryer with a cabbage."
"What happened?"
April gnawed on her lower lip, eyes darting away a moment. She looked back at Sugar. "We burnt out my hairdryer."
"Oops."
"Incidentally, I have a nice bowl of cooked cabbage if you'd care for any."
Shug could only smile and shake her head. It was silly little things like that which endeared April to her all the more. Granted, yes, there were still memories of that brief attempt at dating, back in the days before there was such a creature as Sugar Nesmith, but they were growing faint. Any romantic notions that might have carried over from Mike's recollection had been quashed by more platonic feelings. April was a friend. A best friend.
She was Sugar's only female friend.
In a way, it made her sad. Because of Shug's very unusual circumstances, it was more than difficult to find someone who fully understood just what she had been through. It had been one hell of an adjustment, to say the very least. Being able to hash out all those strange, bothersome, decidedly female feelings and problems with someone who could genuinely empathize… It was wonderful. To April's credit, she had helped Shug through some troubles for which she was completely unprepared, the worst being that terrible sensation that engulfed her very being once every three weeks; the best being that strange, slightly giddy feeling she sometimes got when she was around Peter. Shug knew that feeling—knew it quite well, truth be told—but the fact that its effects were in relation to her bass-playing friend and not, say, April instead, was rather frightening.
April had been there for her since the beginning, though. She arrived in a flurry of skirts and frilly underpinnings, ready to help Mike's poor, poor "twin sister," whose luggage had mysteriously been lost on its fictional journey from Texas to California. At the time, it was embarrassing. After all, "Shug" was a stage name Davy had invented to cover Micky's biggest scientific blunder to date, as well as Mike's humiliation at number one, being turned into a girl and number two, being subjected to all the trappings that went with it. Then, Micky's "cure" for Mike's disastrous condition didn't work properly and he managed to sort Mike and Sugar into separate entities. At the time, Shug's misery knew no limits, no depths; it was just unending. And yet, there was Miss Conquest, stopping by to check on her or sending "Feel better soon!" cards with quirky, big-eyed animals printed on them.
Looking back, it was April's kindness and caring that had won Sugar over. The statuesque blonde may have had a tendency to be overwhelmed by things at times, but she had a loving heart.
So Shug began lowering her defenses bit by bit, in tiny increments, the more comfortable she felt around April, thus resulting in regular overnight visits to the Conquest house. Their early evening entertainment usually varied, although there was always some form of trade involved. One night, Sugar taught April how to rewire an old curling iron, which April then used to fluff Shug's hair to ridiculous proportions. Another night was spent showing April the proper way to make and hold a fist so that she could throw a solid punch. This was followed by Sugar's first pseudo-pedicure, revealing something the girl didn't even know about herself—Her feet were incredibly ticklish. Afterward, take-out dinner of some sort was almost always ordered and the pair of them piled onto April's double bed and watched whatever disastrous feature was scheduled on "The Way Way Late Show" until the wee hours or until they both dropped from giggle-filled exhaustion.
It was funny how a night full of such simple things did so much good for Sugar's well-being. She could relax and not worry about gigs or chord progressions or late rent payments or that whole, pesky shared memories issue she had with Mike.
She wondered if she was actually finding herself.
As April carefully removed curlers from Shug's hair, the other girl took a glimpse in the hand mirror and crinkled her nose. "I look like Shirley Temple gone wrong." She shook her head, new curls bouncing everywhere.
"Hold on, I'm not finished yet," April scolded lightly. She ran a brush through Sugar's hair, turning the ends around her fingers until Shug was wearing a perfectly-coiffed flip hairstyle. "There! How is that?"
Shug once again checked the mirror. She gave a half-grin. "I'll take Marlo over Shirley any day." She did a double-take. "Did you put a little bow up there?"
"Maybe." April gave her friend a pat on the back. "Don't you roll your eyes at me, Sugar-dear. You look positively darling."
Another look in the mirror and Shug sort of shrugged her shoulders. She surprised herself with just how feminine she appeared, especially with her hair styled like that. She gave her head another shake, snickering at how that flip persisted in bouncing back into place. It still made her feel slightly uncomfortable, the whole being-a-girl experience, but she was determined to make it work.
While Shug played with her hair, April tended to the food order waiting in the kitchen. On tonight's menu? A small assortment of goodies from the China Boy Restaurant. It had been Sugar's suggestion; the place was under new management since the Doomsday Bug fiasco a couple of years prior. They did, however, impose a limit on the number of fortune cookies allowed per customer. Peter was to blame for that one.
The two girls settled into their usual places on April's bed, while the television blared the last portion of the late news. The flip in Shug's hair had begun to fade, leaving her with some impressive waves, as well as a small pink bow just above her bangs.
Mouth full of noodles, Shug pointed at the TV set with her chopsticks. "So, what's on tonight?"
April dutifully referred to the TV Guide. "Beach Party Honeymoon,starring Frankie Catalina." She noticed Sugar rolling her eyes. "What, you don't care for beach movies?"
"I still think Mammoth Pictures owes me money for goin' to see that trainwreck," Sugar laughed.
"That bad?"
"Mm-hmm."
April clapped her hands gleefully before propping herself against the padded headboard. "Oh, then this will be a fun one to watch!" She pulled a pillow into her lap and rested her takeout box of lo mein on it.
Given the chance, April could be quite the scathing movie critic. She and Sugar spent the first hour of the movie pointing out failures in continuity and glaring holes in the plot, what little plot there was. When Shug revealed the sad truth that heartthrob Frankie Catalina's fabulous mane was merely a lacquered hairpiece, April almost choked on a sweet pea, she was laughing so hard.
Once April had recovered, the revelation about Frankie's wiglet led to Shug sharing the story of the Monkees working with him as extras on a terrible movie. She stumbled in a few places, struggling to remember proper tense and that it had happened to Mike, not her. April was amused, though she gaped at Sugar more often than not, eyes puzzling over the girl's occasional stammer.
The movie continued to play in the background, long forgotten by this point in the night. Conversation swiftly moved from beach movie extras in a failing franchise to that one fateful day at the laundromat when April found herself the target of affection for a complete quartet.
The blonde sighed, half-giggling. "I still don't understand why the boys couldn't just be themselves. I know I like a lot of things, but that's no reason to try to be something you're not." She set aside her empty takeout carton and bounced the pillow in her lap, ruffling the trim. "Somehow, it worked out, right?" She nudged Shug with her elbow. "Just look at you and Peter."
Sugar felt her ears suddenly turn hot; her stomach felt like it was full of butterflies rather than peppered steak. She drew her knees up to her chest, folding the tail of her night shirt under her bottom.
"Honey, it's okay if you date him," April said, reassuring hand on Shug's shoulder. "I couldn't possibly be jealous. You're a perfect fit." She was quiet a moment, ponderous. "It's funny. Of the four of them, he was really the most honest. I realize that chamber music isn't the same as rock, but..."
"He hated sending that harpsichord back," Shug finished, a small hint of disappointment in her voice. "He can play anything. He just couldn't afford to keep it."
"Sort of like Mike and the motorcycle, huh?"
Sugar let go a chuckle and narrowed her eyes playfully. "That's right, baby. And fish can swim."
April laughed a moment, then her expression slowly turned worrisome. Her gaze was fixed on Sugar's face, first examining her eyes, then the curl of her lip as she smiled. Her own eyes boggled.
"...Michael?"
Shug didn't even think before opening her mouth. "Yeah, April?"
With a horrified gasp, the blonde girl practically leapt off the bed, making a grab for her robe. She threw it on, tying the belt as tightly as possible to cover her little pink nightie pajamas. She continued to gape at Sugar, who sat huddled in the duvet, confused.
"How? How are you...?" April pointed an accusing finger at the other girl. "How dare you?"
"April, it's not like that," Shug pleaded. "I'm not like that!" If only she hadn't let her defenses down. If only she had kept her mouth shut! "I can explain."
It appeared as though April wasn't going to wait for an explanation. She quickly turned on her heels and sprinted toward the bathroom, where she slammed the door shut behind her.
Sugar could feel her heart slipping right into her stomach. She clambered off the bed, landing in a clumsy tangle of legs and sheets in the floor. She righted herself and stood outside the bathroom door. She lightly tapped at the door. "April? April, please let me explain."
No answer.
"April, you're th' only other friend I've got," Shug persisted. She viciously pulled at her own hair. How could she have been so stupid? "I don't wanna lose you 'cause I put my foot in mah big, stupid mouth."
"I need a minute, thank you very much," April snapped from the other side of the door.
It stung. Deep.
"You're still my best girl friend, April," Sugar said, quietly patting the door. Her face burned, which meant she would do the one thing she hated more than anything in the world—She would cry. She yanked on her hair again, in the hopes it was enough to quell all those stupid, sad emotions.
Shug was quick in packing her things into her nap-sack. She didn't even bother with changing clothes. She simply pulled on the windbreaker she had borrowed from her brother and slipped on her shoes. It wasn't that long of a walk back to the Pad; she figured it was a couple of miles at the most. Sugar was mindful that she locked the door behind her as she left.
The neighborhood was eerily quiet at that hour. Unnerving. There was the faint sound of thunder in the distance, hinting that a storm was on the way. Sugar zipped the windbreaker closed and pulled the bag onto her back a bit tighter. A quick peek at her watch revealed it was just past 11:00. If she hurried and nothing happened, surely she could be back home close to midnight.
Back home, where her only friends were the guys who knew what she had been.
"You're an idiot," she grumbled at herself. "You're nothin' but a fool." Her eyes twitched and a few tears escaped. She instinctively pulled at her hair as hard as she could. "Stop. Stop it." The tears only became worse with each tug at her locks. "You should've known better. You cain't have friends. You're a freak of nature." She stopped at a light post, resting her head against it as her own personal waterworks flooded her vision. "You're an accident. You're a mistake. You're a damn science experiment!"
She lost track of how much time she had wasted just standing there, smacking her head against a post. She felt something cold hit the nape of her neck. The feeling came again, this time on her shoulders. It carried on, coming in faster waves of chilly wetness. She had not accounted for the storm at all. She should have been inside somewhere, safe and dry.
She looked to the sky and snarled. "Rainin' while I'm cryin' my eyes out and got no ride home? How original." As she resumed her trek home, she ran a hand through her bangs, brushing them out of her face. She found herself holding the pink bow April had put in her hair earlier. She stuffed it in her jacket pocket and kept walking.