Chapter 2. Wednesday night. The Official Opening.

Mike parked the Monkeemobile among the chic cars outside the big beautiful mansion. Davy looked at it as he left the car – and suddenly felt little and absolutely, genuinely amazed. The owner of the mansion must be very, very rich. And look who he had chosen to play for him – the Monkees!

Micky was nervous. He examined all the chicness around and looked really worried. Mike was somewhere in his own little world – he was looking straight ahead, but Davy could tell he didn't see or hear anything around him. Well, at least he wasn't worried anymore about the strange new neighbour. Only Peter looked genuinely happy. He looked around in amazement and joy and smiled at everyone they passed, even if they weren't looking.

The tall man in dark blue suit met the guys at the door.

- You must be the Monkees, - he said with a soft smile, as they walked in. – Don't say anything, don't tell me your names, I know you, gentlemen, - he closed the door behind them and announced: - Welcome to the Official Opening!

- Official Opening? – Micky asked, unsure, taking a step back. He looked even more worried now.

- Yes, Mr Dolenz, sir, - the tall man said with a smile. – You shouldn't worry, we've taken care of everything.

People in the hall were glancing at the guys with genuine interest, but nobody dared to catch their eyes or come close. People were talking to each other, maybe even about the Monkees, but nobody would talk to the Monkees. The man in blue led the Monkees to the large room and opened the door with a welcoming gesture.

- Please have a rest here, gentlemen. We'll take care of your instruments, if you don't mind.

- We don't, - Mike drawled thoughtfully as he entered the room.

Davy followed him and Peter followed Davy, so Micky had no choice. The man in blue smiled at them once again and said friendly:

- If you need anything – just press the button you see here on the wall. I'm Bjorn. I'll come for you later!

And he took his leave and closed the door after him.

The first thing Mike did was run to the door to check if it was locked. But it wasn't. It flew open and Mike almost hit a pretty young lady. Davy could see her and had to admit he'd fall for her a little more than four weeks ago. Then he glanced at his man – and smiled softly. He had already found the one he would adore all of his life and more…

Mike hurried to apologize and closed the door. Davy only noticed the lady's smile and heard something like: 'Oh, that's okay, Mr Nesmith'. For some reason they were 'misters' that evening to all those rich and beautiful guests. Davy wondered why.

- I think there's nothing to worry about, Mick, - Mike remarked casually as he headed towards the sofa and lay down. – What do you think, Davy babe?

- I wonder why they're honouring us – I mean, us, just us Monkees, - Davy said, sitting down in the comfortable armchair.

- I'd like to know that too! – and Micky almost fell onto the large soft carpet right on the floor.

- I wouldn't wonder about that too much, - Mike objected quite reasonably. – They all look like they know what they're doing. Let's trust them. Maybe we are appreciated at last.

- Maybe in aristocratic circles we're stars, - Peter said with a shining smile.

Davy glanced at him and smiled to himself. Sometimes he wished he could be like Peter in his adorable holy stupidity. But really – perhaps… perhaps in some circles they were known and appreciated…

He smiled at this thought. Whom was he fooling? There was just something funny going on there. He got up and went to the sofa just to stop near Mike and look at him.

- What? – Mike asked, looking up at the little one, trying to hide his smile. He surely knew how Davy loved just standing there staring at him. He even knew the answer to this usual 'what'.

- You know what.

- Sure. And do you?

This dialogue repeated at least twice every day. Micky turned his face away, giggling, while Peter looked at the two with a smile on his face. But Mike wasn't really about to entertain his little one. He sat up and crossed his legs – and so Davy knew he wanted to close himself. He just sat down near him and glanced at him again. He loved even just looking at Mike. When he could look at his man, he knew that Mike was there for him. And it was so good to feel that he, Davy was there for Mike.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

- Yes, - Micky said, getting up.

- Gentlemen, you're asked to come to the stage, - Bjorn said as he opened the door. – The Official Opening is to start in twenty minutes.

- Okay then, - Mike said, getting up quickly. – Let's go, guys?

The three others followed him out of the room. Bjorn led them up the huge stairs to the second floor and showed them the door. He opened it and Davy saw the corner of the huge stage. He was standing a little behind Mike, touching his arm, as he always did.
Their instruments were already on that stage, as Davy could see, set out just as they should be. Somebody had taken care of everything, as Bjorn had said…

Mike, as the most courageous, stepped in first. He went to the centre of the stage, followed by the others, and smiled to everybody. Davy glanced at the audience, then at Mike's face – and relaxed. These rich people in chic clothes, who looked up at them in breathless expectation, made him think of a sea. But Mike and his strange but genuine smile, as he once again closed himself to concentrate on music, were his boat. And Davy knew he could be calm, even in front of those beautiful people. If Mike was so calm, why should he worry?

They were introduced by that same Bjorn. They started playing 'Daydream Believer' as he told them it was the Owner's request. Davy looked at the audience, glancing into each and every pair of happy eyes, feeling better than ever. His voice rose as he sang, he felt his entire throat vibrate pleasantly. Now if that wasn't heaven for a singer, what was?

'Now you know how happy

I can be…'

But when he glanced at Mike to see how his man was enjoying it all – gosh, he loved being loved! – he saw something he didn't expect at all. Mike's lips were smiling slightly, but his eyes weren't.

'Cheer up, sleepy Jean!' – Davy sang brightly, glancing at the audience and back at his man, hoping Mike would look at him.

And he did. He caught Davy's glance and moved his chin a little to the side – he was pointing at somebody or something there. Davy followed Mike's stare – and almost forgot to sing 'homecoming queen'.

Comrade Hatred was sitting at the table in the very centre of the hall, looking at the guys with a smile. He seemed like far away with his thoughts. His face was calm and joyous.

Davy forced himself to smile again and tore his stare from Comrade.
Oh no, he thought. Not now.
 They finished singing that song. The aristocrats applauded in polite, but genuine joy. Any other time that would have brought Davy only happiness. But he was uneasy. Mike looked calm, too, but Davy could almost feel him vibrate. His body was pulled tighter than the strings of his guitar. Bjorn came to the centre of the stage and announced that the Official Opening was to start. He led the Monkees off the stage and offered to walk them back to their waiting room. They had to wait until the official part was over to play more.

- Can we please stay and watch the Official Opening? – Davy asked.

- Of course, if you wish, gentlemen, - Bjorn answered politely. – Let me show you to the hall.

He led them to the huge door and they went in. There was a free table for four quite far away from the stage. The guys sat down on the chairs – and they watched Comrade Hatred's broad black back as he stood up and headed to the stage. He took his place at the microphone, facing every one – and smiled. Davy swallowed hard. Comrade Hatred was standing on the stage, looking right in his eyes.

- Good evening, my dear guests, - the man greeted. His voice was friendly and soft. – I hope you enjoyed the Monkees' music.

Another round of applause rose. Comrade Hatred waited patiently, with a proud smile, as if he himself had created the group, until the silence returned.

- I knew I wasn't mistaken, choosing these young gentlemen to play for us on this pleasant occasion. But now let's come to the official part of my speech. You know I don't like it all, so I promise to be short.

Mike poked Davy in the ribs with his elbow.

- I don't like it now, - he whispered right into his ear. – Maybe we'd better go?

He pointed his chin at Bjorn, who was standing close to the entrance of the hall. Davy took a deep breath and then exhaled.

- No, - he said, barely moving his lips. – Wait…

Mike found his hand resting on his lap and squeezed it. Davy nodded without a word and held Mike's hand in both of his.

- Don't worry, - he mouthed and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

Mike nodded and looked at Comrade Mstislav.

- …Well, I must say that my experiments went well and I was allowed to start my practice, - he went on. – In my work with people in what I call my Boxes I am going to follow the Hippocratic Oath. I have to admit that the science we're studying and the area of the human mind we're exploring – feelings and secrets – is quite controversial. But my methods…

And after that he said a few sentences so intricate Davy didn't understand a word. Comrade Hatred must be a real professional – all those people in the audience listened to him with genuine interest and sometimes nodded significantly. But things he said were barely understandable to a simple boy like Davy. Comrade must have noticed it in his eyes. He smiled and announced:

- Well, I hope I haven't bored anybody with my speech, for now it's over. We can come to the Official Opening of the Boxes!

Two men dressed in dark blue suits, like Bjorn, came to the stage and gave Comrade Hatred a sealed envelope and a pen. They then took their places on either side of the man.

- You know, - Comrade Hatred said, as if he was addressing old friends, - I had to sign a lot of papers on my way to this opening. This is one last, and the most important, thing to sign. And the moment I sign it my Boxes will be officially opened. Let me sign it in your presence and finally finish with this tiring official part!

He opened the envelope and took 'the paper' out of it. He put it on the little table – Davy would bet it hadn't been there just a few seconds ago – and signed. Then he showed it to the audience and folded it and put it back into the envelope.

- So, the Boxes are opened and my mission is officially started, - he said with a wide smile. – And now let me invite the Monkees back to this stage to sing some of their songs for you, my dear guests. Enjoy!

And he turned and went off the stage. The little table had magically disappeared – and, once again, Davy didn't even know how.

Mike stomped into the room, pushing Davy ahead of him and slammed the door behind his back. And groaned – it sounded almost like a cry.

- What did we spend the evening doing? Entertaining that moron! – he announced, punching the bed. – And his freaking audience! – his trembling voice he was trying to make sarcastic sounded bitter. – Damned professionals!

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffed. He was trying to look especially angry – and that meant he was scared. As scared as mad he wanted to look. He could never be this cross, this mad.

He punched the bed even more cruelly and sniffed again. Then he fell on the bed – and buried his face in his hands exhaustedly. Davy went towards him, but Mike stretched his arm out, stopping him.

- Leave me alone, - he said in a hollow voice. – Please. Do. As I. Say. I feel like killing the first person to bother me.

Davy smiled and sat down near Mike on the bed.

- Now try it, - he said softly. – Just look at me and try.

Mike glanced at him and sighed.

- You're scared, - Davy said seriously again, putting his arm around Mike's waist. – Don't even try to deny it, I know. He frightens you.

Mike looked away. Davy sniffed, almost annoyed.

- I can understand everything. But now – what can he do to you? Bite? You're so afraid of him like he is about to eat you. I don't think he likes skinny lampposts like you, sunny!

Mike turned his face away quickly. Davy smiled. He noticed that the corners of Mike's lips turned a little upwards before Mike hid the newborn smile in his frown. Davy climbed on his man's lap and sat facing him. Mike tried to push him away, but Davy just caught Mike's face in his both hands and turned to himself.

- Don't make problems where there aren't any, - he said softly and seriously, looking deep in Mike's eyes.

Mike sighed.

- You know that I usually don't, tiny, - he said softly, looking away. – But I thought a lot of it all and…

- That's what you do all day long – think on the most unpleasant matters, - Davy said, a little offended. He touched the tip of Mike's nose with his own and gazed at his man worriedly, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs.

- Yes, I did think, - Mike said with no trace of annoyance. – And you know, I think he really is some kind of an expert on secrets. He knows about Monday while even Micky and Peter don't. Don't you think that it makes him a problem for us?

Davy looked down.

- If he really knows about Monday – I guess he knows everything about us. And being of the old generation, he surely doesn't approve… anybody like us. He actually said it was a problem, - Mike made a pause. – Expert on secrets. Doesn't approve. See now?

Davy shook his head. He really didn't see.

- He will find a way, - Mike said quietly, putting his arms around Davy's waist. – A way to use his knowledge. To 'solve' the 'problem'.

Davy swallowed. With Micky and Peter he could accept Comrade Hatred's words as meaningless and accidental. With Mike, though, the picture of the problem was clear. But he needed to try as the thought came into his mind and he grasped at it desperately:

- Listen, you're just making all of this up yourself! There's a simple way he could have found out about Monday – maybe it's just that our neighbour heard something – or even saw, if my calls woke them up – and mentioned it to him before she left?.. you know our old ladies…

- Mrs Jack is another story, - Mike said, looking Davy in the eye at last. – You know what, tiny? She wasn't going to move from here. She wouldn't even think about it. She couldn't. She didn't have any acquaintances or relatives – anywhere, neither far nor close! She was a sick and lonely old lady, even though she was so pleasant. She simply couldn't move anywhere. You see now?

- Wait, so… listen, how do you know that he's taking Mrs Jack's room, not anybody other's? – Davy asked, placing his hands on Mike's shoulders. – She's not our only neighbour…

- I noticed Mr Thompson and his little Lettie – well, his son, you remember - hanging a signboard there, over her door. Guess what it said? You're right, 'Comrade Hatred's Boxes'!

Davy gasped. So, he was this close. Only a wall separated the Monkees' pad and the mysterious Boxes of the one who saw the problem here. Comrade Hatred's Boxes were opened – now officially – right next door. And who knew what that man had done to the poor old lady…

- Now you see, - Mike said hugging Davy and pressing him close. - I don't know why I feel that he's so menacing. Maybe because we don't even know what he has done to Mrs Jack. I think he's done something bad to her, though I don't know for sure. Or maybe because he knows about Monday. Or maybe because he said he saw a problem here. I don't know, cowboy. But once I saw him, I felt he had… like, a hidden weapon. He's like a sheathed sword, you know... just because you can't see the blade it doesn't mean it's not dangerous, ha?

Davy took Mike's face in his both hands – and they looked into each other's eyes.

- Don't think of him, - Davy said softly.

- My dear, dear Davy… how I wish I could just forget, - Mike said quietly, looking down.

Davy moved even closer to him and whispered, touching Mike's lips with his own:

- Maybe I can make you forget…

- Make me, - Mike answered quietly, his voice softly turning into whisper. – Take me away from here, far away, to your world… where I can… hide…

Davy kissed him on the lips, slowly, deeply, making Mike drown in him, in his love, in his tenderness. He ran his fingers through the dark waves of his man's hair. He caressed Mike's face and then his hands moved down, taking away the shells covering the naked body...

Mike let him do everything he wished. He just held that little warm being, stroking his young body, caressing it, but letting Davy do what he was doing, letting Davy go on. He wouldn't stop him for a single moment.

And he wouldn't open his eyes.

He closed himself for the whole world around, for the real world – but opened himself for Davy, for his love, for their world, for the feeling... Davy put him on the bed – and felt how well their bodies matched, how they were made for each other. He felt Mike with his entire being, from his skin to his heart. Mike took a deep breath and groaned quietly. Everything was in that groan – pain and pleasure, and desire, and something else, that couldn't be expressed with words.

His man's arms around his neck.

His body, so close.

The feeling.

They matched.

The darkness, solid and liquid, and moving, and flashing.

Everything was suddenly so hot and wet.

They were far away.

They were one…