*Hey, guys. I recently had the wonderful chance to work with the amazing Lisa Boon ("We'll Make Up A Story" series, "Peter and the Puppies", "Look Before You Leap", etc) and this is one of our two collaborations (so far). Just so you know, this one is already complete and fully written. It is just very long and so we're dividing up into chapters that'll be released over time. It was an absolute delight to work with her on this and we had a lot of fun with it. Hope you guys enjoy "Sail Along!"*
Micky rubbed his eyes and glanced over at the clock. It was nearing eleven thirty and Mike still wasn't home. Mike had left shortly after supper ended and said that he would be home late, something that was becoming a habit with the Texan over the past month. The rest of them didn't really question it too much, Mike had told them that he was going out and would be back late. They thought he was going to find them gigs, but then he started coming back with money. Not a lot of money, maybe twenty dollars, sixty at the most. When Davy asked where Mike had gotten the money, Mike didn't answer really, he just said that he had his ways.
Micky yawned and put the book he was reading down and switched off the bedside light, deciding that he'd talk to Mike in the morning he fell asleep. When he woke up the next morning it was to noises down stairs and soft snoring. Micky looked to his right and saw Mike fast asleep on his stomach, his head turned facing him, his mouth slightly open fast asleep. Sighing Micky got up and grabbing a change of clothing he headed down stairs.
"What are you two doing?" Micky asked as a greeting to his other two band mates through a yawn as he made his way to the bathroom.
"Micky, was this here when you went to bed?" Peter asked as he picked some paper off the kitchen table and handed it to Micky. Micky took it and stared at it. It was a hundred dollar bill. Correction, it was two one hundred dollar bills.
"Peter, where did you get this?" Micky asked, his eyes wide.
"It was in the cookie jar. We're out of milk so I was going to go and get some. I reached my hand in to get the change and well…" Peter trailed off as he also looked at the money.
"Well where did it come from?" Micky asked as he set the clothing he was carrying down onto the couch and went over to the table.
"We don't know," Davy said "Peter came and woke me up and started asking me if I knew, and for the record I don't. So we thought you might have an idea?" Micky shook his head. He had no clue where they would've gotten the money. He opened his mouth to tell them so when the bedroom door opened and Mike came out and groggily came down the stairs.
"Mornin.'" He said as he went to grab a cup of coffee.
"Hey Mike?" Micky asked "Where did the two hundred dollars come from?" Mike yawned as he poured the steaming liquid into a mug and then grabbed the sugar from the cupboard and a spoon from the drawer.
"I got it last night." Mike said as he stirred his coffee around and made to sit down at the table.
"What time did you get in last night?" Micky asked "I tried waiting up for you but fell asleep at around eleven thirty and you still weren't in." Davy and Peter looked at each other. They didn't know Mike had come in so late.
"That's none of your business." Mike said as he rubbed his legs first his left then his right.
"What's up?" Peter asked.
"I'm tired." Mike answered as if to punctuate his meaning he yawned again.
"Why?" Davy asked.
"I was out late last night." Mike said getting up and moving over to the couch to sit down putting his feet up on the coffee table.
"Why were you out late?" Davy asked, following Mike over to the couch.
"I was busy." Mike answered taking a sip of coffee then grabbed the newspaper to read it.
"Doing what?" Micky asked.
"Stuff….now drop it." Mike said, wincing a little bit as he crossed one leg over the other.
"Are you okay?" Peter asked, noticing his discomfort.
"Yeah, fine," he groaned as he rubbed his eyes awake.
"Where'd you get two hundred dollars from, Mike?" Micky asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
Mike looked up and glared at him.
"That's none of your business," he said sternly. "I got it, and that's all you need to know. Will you please just drop it?"
The others didn't have time to respond before Mike stood up and, wincing and limping slightly, stormed upstairs. They all watched him worriedly.
"What was that all about?" Davy asked with a frown.
"I don't know." Micky shrugged.
"Why was Mike limping?" Peter asked.
"Mike was limping?" Davy said worriedly.
"It could be nothing." Micky said "maybe he hurt his leg?"
"How," Davy asked, "he hasn't done anything to do that, that I know of."
"Maybe it's from where he got the money," Peter said, nervously fiddling with his hands. "Guys? Do you think…?"
"What?" Micky asked, frowning.
"Is Mike going out and fighting every night…?"
"What? No way, Peter!" Davy said quickly. "He would never."
Peter looked down.
"This isn't the first time he's come home hurt. He had cut his knee and told me not to tell you guys about it and that he was fine—"
"Maybe he just fell, Peter." Micky interrupted. "I don't think he'd be going out fighting."
"Well what else could he be doing?" Davy asked "the only other thing I can think of is-" He broke off looking at Peter and then shrugged. Micky looked at him and nodded but then shook his head.
"He wouldn't do that." Micky said "We may be desperate, but not that desperate."
"What?" Peter asked.
"Never mind Peter." Micky said. Davy let out a sigh and made his way over to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee and took a sip.
"Okay, so he's not doing that, then what is he doing?"
"Well, I'm sure it's something fine," Micky shrugged. "Just because he's going out late at night and getting lots of money, doesn't automatically mean it's something bad?" He offered, even if he was still worried himself.
"Then what is he doing?" Peter asked.
"I don't know Pete, but when and if Mike wants to tell us he will." Micky said as he looked upstairs.
"I just hope he's being careful." Davy said.
Micky stepped upstairs and knocked on the bedroom door hesitantly.
"Hey, Mike?" He called out, creaking the door open.
"Hmm, what?" Mike groaned from his bed. When Micky came in closer, he couldn't help but notice the scrapes and bruises on Mike's arms and legs.
"What happened?" Micky asked. Mike looked at him.
"Nothing that concerns you Mick, we got enough money to keep the lights on and to put food in the fridge." Mike said as he rolled over.
"Yeah, but at what cost?" Micky asked, sitting gingerly on Mike's bed.
"I'm fine," Mike sighed. "There's nothing you need to worry about."
"Yes, but Mike! We're your friends! You go out every night for hours at a time and always come home tired and hurt. How do you expect us not to worry?"
"Mick-" Mike started to say, struggling to get up.
"No Mike lay back down and rest. Just listen." Micky said "Are you getting into fights for money?"
Mike shook his head no.
"Are you in trouble or something?"
Again Mike shook his head no.
"Are you..err, are you well.." Micky lowered his voice "selling things?"
"What!" Mike said "No! Of course not!"
"Then what is it, Mike?"
Mike sighed and looked down.
"It's nothing…" he muttered.
"It's not nothing, Robert Michael!" Micky exploded "You're coming home banged up and hurt and you expect us to just stand by? How would you act if me or Davy did the same thing?"
"What about Peter?" Mike asked.
"Peter doesn't fight." Micky said "and quit trying to change the topic."
"I'm not fighting, Micky!" He sat up, becoming defensive. "And I'm fine. We can finally catch up on groceries and rent. I thought you'd be happy."
"Yeah, I'm really happy that we can get caught up on our bills because my best friend is getting beat up." Micky said rolling his eyes.
"I'm not getting beat up." Mike said "I'm-"
"What're these then, Mike?!" Micky asked, gesturing to Mike's arms and legs. "How are you getting these?"
"It's embarrassing." Mike said.
"Why?" Micky asked.
"Because I'm not normally like this," Mike said "But it's a rush." Micky raised an eyebrow.
"Please tell me you're not dancing." He said. Mike glared at him.
"No, I wouldn't be that desperate for us to get money." Mike said.
"Then what is it?"
"I…can't." Mike shook his head. "I can't tell you."
"Why not?"
"You'd laugh at me."
"No I wouldn't." Micky said "I'm your friend. I'd never laugh at you." Mike hummed.
"I still can't tell you. But I'll try to be more careful. How's that?" Mike asked.
Micky frowned but let out a sigh.
"Sure Mike, as long as you're careful."
Mike nodded and closed his eyes, about to try and sleep.
"Hey, Mike?" Micky asked after a moment.
"Yeah?" He groaned not opening his eyes.
"Just…I hope you know that we care about you and your well-being more than any amount of money, okay? Please be careful."
'Hmm. on it." Mike mumbled as he drifted off. Micky snorted slightly but got up and left the bedroom.