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"I Met a Girl Who Sang the Blues - Part 5"
Title: I Met A Girl Who Sang The Blues
Genre/Pairing: Peter/OFC, Micky/OFC, Mike/OFC, Davy/OFCs. Gen/Rom/Com
Rating: PG-R, nothing very graphic happens
Warnings: Mild language, mild violence, suggestive themes, sexual situations
Disclaimer: I do not own the Monkees, or any of the characters from the show. I only own my OCs.
Summary: When two girls move in close to our boys, will the effect cause happiness
for all, or will every thing be torn apart?
Author's Note: This is the first Monkees fiction I wrote. As such, it is not the best thing I’ve ever written, but it remains in a special place in my heart none the less. Some of you may remember this from Monkees Fic on Livejournal.
In Which A Great Assortment Of Odd Events Work To The Benefit Of Various Persons
The Monkees had a gig at the Rich-Swank Hotel for a Christmas Dance for a local high school nearly two weeks after Thanksgiving. The ballroom was quite dark, and Micky had little trouble sneaking Myrtle and Hilda in.
Hilda, the poor girl, had very recently experienced a rather tragic turn of events. The producer she had worked for went bankrupt, so she was out of a job and out of an apartment. Sophie and Myrtle decided to take her in, sharing a room with Sophie rent-free until she found a job. As a result, Hilda was now often tagging along behind Myrtle, much to the chagrin of Davy. He generally made it a point not to hang around girls he had dumped, but Hilda seemed to stick around like glue. Although this was not necessarily her intent.
Sophie was not at the Christmas Dance, nor had she been at the Monkees’ apartment since Thanksgiving. Myrtle said that this was because she had hired full time at the club; the manager had gotten rid of three of his bands and so now Sophie worked there four nights a week. She was absolutely exhausted, Myrtle explained, and she had hardly seen Sophie anymore than the rest of them had.
Before too long, nearly one hundred hyper teenagers crowded into the very festively decorated ballroom. The Monkees took their cue and got up on the bandstand. Someone in the crowd wolf-whistled.
“Hey…” Mike pointed out in the audience, and glared before they started off with ‘Mary, Mary’. The teens liked the music and were dancing animatedly. Micky caught a glance of his Myrtle trying to teach Hilda American dance moves and he nearly fell off his seat behind the drum kit.
The set lasted three hours, with the crowd trickling out at ten, grumbling. The guys began to pack up.
“I thought your muzic was very good. Ve say in my Svitzerland, muzic is good for your soul.” Hilda had come up to help, followed by Myrtle who was slightly breathless.
“Thank you,” Micky said to Hilda as Myrtle came over and stood next to him. The girls helped them carry the gear out to the car, and then they all set off for the apartment. As they drove, Myrtle suddenly had an idea.
“Hey, do you guys want to go see Sophie? The club is right down the street…”
Mike shrugged. “Fine with me. How ‘bout you guys?”
Everyone except Peter were all for it. Peter hadn’t seen Sophie since the afternoon on the balcony when he had come so close to kissing her. He hadn’t meant to, it was just that she had looked so lovely standing there, the sun hitting her hair and eyes just right…He would’ve done it if Mike hadn’t come out on the balcony. Peter suspected that Sophie was angry at him, but he had no real reason for thinking that.
They pulled up to the club. Myrtle told them that it had three stories and a basement; the door to the basement was surrounded by a large crowd of men all dressed funny, some of them with stoned looks on their faces and others with their arms wrapped suggestively around each other. Myrtle laughed at the others edging around the crowd.
Micky leaned down to her ear. “You don’t find that a little weird?”
Myrtle snorted. “Sophie and I moved here from the Village; I dare say I’ve seen weirder things.” She led the way in the door and up a staircase. Myrtle explained that each floor had a different sort of music going. The basement was some sort of experimental, funky scene. The first floor they passed emanated pop music from the early fifties and sixties. Myrtle pushed her way in through the door on the second floor.
A wall of heat and blaring music hit them all as soon as they walked in. The floor was crowded with dancers who looked like they had been at it for quite some time, sweat running off all of them.
It was bluesy-rock music and it took awhile for them to recognize the song as ‘Long Tall Sally’. It also took them a while to remember it was Sophie up there. She had taken the song and shredded it apart, nearly screaming the lyrics, and doing a fantastic job of it. She had her guitar with her, and it was just her up on a small platform towards the front of the room.
As soon as they had came in, Myrtle had dragged Micky off to dance, Micky not protesting a bit. Davy had been spotted by a girl who looked like she hadn’t seen sunlight in years and also dragged off. Mike led Peter and Hilda over to a table on the side of the floor and they sat down to listen to Sophie and watch the other dancers.
Sophie never let down the pace, going from ‘Long Tall Sally’ right into ‘Ready Teddy’ in almost one breath. Peter couldn’t take his eyes off her. Like most of the people in the club, she was dressed in all black, and sweat was pouring down her face. There wasn’t much light in the place, but she had some light on her and it looked like she was glowing slightly. Peter thought she played wonderfully, at least as well as he or Mike could play, if not better.
This time when she finished to song, she took a break to talk. He voice sounded deeper than is usually did, and she looked pained talking. “Alright everyone, that’s it for me for awhile! Old John Wilson and His Old Blues Band will be on in a minute and I’ll be back in thirty.” She walked off the platform and out of sight.
Mike had just begun to mention going and finding Sophie, when she showed up out of nowhere carrying several bottles of coke in her arms.
“Where’s everyone else,” Sophie asked, setting the bottles down with a clatter, and then collapsing in a chair.
“Myrtle and Micky are dancing and Davy got dragged off by some vampire lady,” Peter explained while trying in vain to get the top off the coke.
Sophie laughed and set the bottle she had just opened in front of Peter. “Trade…Well, why aren’t you guys out dancing?”
Mike shook his head. “Not my bag.”
Hilda nodded. “I don’t know any American dances, and Myrtle said…”
Sophie scoffed. “Myrtle doesn’t know what she’s talking about; it looks like she’s made out of rubber when she dances, it creeps me out. Nesmith, go and teach the lady to dance…”
Mike yelped comically. “What?! I can’t….”
Sophie sat up in her chair and pointed threateningly. “Nesmith…,” she growled.
Mike put his hands up. “Fine, fine….Come on, Hilda.” Hilda looked nearly surprised as Sophie and Peter did, but followed Mike into the crowd.
Peter turned to Sophie in awe. “How did you do that?”
Sophie shrugged. “Hell if I know; I didn’t think it would work.”
“Why’d you do it, then?”
If Sophie were to answer truthfully, she would have said that she wanted to be alone with him. “Hilda needs to make some more friends, the poor thing. She’s lucky Davy introduced us or else she may had been out on the street…” Sophie trailed off distractedly, looking around the room and wiping more sweat off her brow.
Peter chanced a comment. “You’re really good.”
Sophie looked at him questioningly. “Up there, I mean,” Peter nodded his head at the platform.
“Oh, thanks…I’ll get around to seeing you guys sometime soon.”
“We gigged tonight…”
“Yeah, Myrtle told me this morning on her way out. A Christmas Dance.” Sophie looked back out at the crowd again, then sharply back at Peter.
Peter had also been watching the dancers. “Huh?”
“Do you wanna dance?”
Peter fidgeted. “Oh, uhm…”
“Not your bag, either?”
Peter glanced over at her. “No…I mean, yeah, it’s my bag, I’ll dance with you.”
Sophie looked a little surprised, but stood and led Peter out on the floor. If Sophie had spent hours planning this, it couldn’t have gone better. As soon as the two had found a spot to dance, Old John (who was actually in his twenties and a good friend of Sophie’s) switched over to a slow song, dedicating it to all those lovers out there.
For a brief moment, Peter considered bolting, but decided against it. Instead, he put a slightly shaking hand on Sophie’s waist and picked up her hand in his other. Sophie fell right into it, moving with him and the music.
Neither talked for a while, Peter concentrating on not tripping up and Sophie attempting to absorb all of Peter that she could; the way his hand compulsively twitched on her waist, the gentle way his other hand held hers, the smell of his aftershave and shampoo, the way his eyes glanced into hers every so often before looking away again . Too soon, the song was over.
“….we’ll be back later, folks, but up next is Miss Sophie Monroe!”
Sophie startled. “That’s me.”
She began to walk away, but Peter gripped her hand for a moment before she let go. “Wait.”
She turned around to him. “Yeah?”
Peter looked like he was trying to decide on what to say. “I’ll see you later?”
Sophie winked. “Absolutely.” He dropped her hand, but before he could walk off, Sophie asked him, “Hey, Pete, you want me to play something when I get up there?”
Peter shrugged. “What’s your favorite song to sing?”
She winked again, and then disappeared. Peter slowly made his way back to the table, where no one else had returned.
As soon as he sat down, Sophie walked out on the platform. “Hello! I’m back, and I’d like to play this song specially for a young man who was thoughtful enough to request it…”
Even though the room was dark and they weren’t very close to each other, Sophie managed to catch Peter’s eye and broke into a sped up version of ‘Sweet Home Chicago’.
Mike was surprised to find that he was having a lot of fun with Hilda. They had taken a break from dancing and had sat down at a table. She was telling him about some adventures she had had in the mountains near her old home in Switzerland, and Mike had told her tales from him and his uncle exploring the desert in Texas. The two had hit it off really well.
Unbeknownst to any of their friends, Myrtle had dragged Micky to the top floor in the building. All sorts of colored lights were swirling around, and most of the people dancing looked like they were high on one thing or another. All along the walls were these odd tent-like things that extended from the ceiling to the floor in opaque silky curtains. Myrtle led Micky around, peeking sneakily into each one until she found one that obviously suited her. She pulled Micky in behind her, and he was able to see what she was up to.
The silky curtain tent was hiding a very large cushion sitting on the floor; large enough for two people to lay on. Micky looked around. “So, this is what you and Sophie used to get up to in the Village?”
Myrtle laughed and flopped backwards on the cushion, spreading her arms wide. “This was more Sophie’s scene than mine.”
Micky laid down next to her. “I find that hard to believe.”
Myrtle nodded. “Sophie’s been relatively low-key since we left; she learned a hard lesson a hard way.”
“What lesson’s that?”
“That’s Sophie’s story to tell, Mick, not mine.”
“Oh, come on…”
“You know, I can think of several things we could be doing that are far more interesting than Sophie Monroe….”
That shut Micky up, and the two of them scooted back so that they were laying full out on the cushion. Micky ran his hand over Myrtle’s stomach and leaned down to kiss her. Something in the room was magical, he decided. The music could still be heard clearly, and it was some sort of instrumental, tribal stuff that Micky didn’t recognize, but he let it permeate his mind and it took his body away with it. There was also something very taboo about the situation; the idea that a simple curtain separated them from a whole room of people was intensely erotic.
Micky hadn’t had a lot of sex in his young life, and despite Myrtle’s claims, neither had she, but what the couple experienced that night surpassed anything either of them had ever experienced before. When it was over, they lay clutching each other, both breathing rapidly.
“I love you.”
Myrtle’s breath caught in her throat for a moment. “I love you too, Mick.”
The pair didn’t go back down to the second floor for a long while.
Mike and Hilda had resumed dancing, and Davy nor Micky and Myrtle had been seen since they got to the club. Peter, still at the same table, was beginning to worry. Usually Mike did the worrying, that was what he did, but he looked to caught up in Hilda to think about anything else.
Sophie came back to the table for the fourth time, meaning that it was near one o’ clock in the morning. “Hey, Pete.”
“Hey, Sophie. What time does this place close down?”
“One-thirty. Mack will probably be coming through soon, herding people out. I’m fixing to go myself.” She held the guitar case she was carrying up and nodded towards the door.
“Oh…I should wait for the others.”
Sophie laughed. “You may be here for a while. Everyone leaves at once, so it gets
crowded, and no one wants to leave until the last minute.”
“I don’t even know where anyone is….”
Sophie pointed out across the room. “Davy’s enjoying his time with Vampira, necking over there, Mike is over there with Hilda, dancing away, and Micky’s up there with Myrtle.” She pointed at the ceiling.
Peter looked up. “What’s up there?”
Sophie considered answering honestly, but remembered that one thing she loved the most about Peter was his innocence. She wouldn’t do anything to ruin that. “It’s quieter up there…People can talk in private.”
Peter nodded. “Oh…” Then he caught on. “Oh!”
Sophie laughed. “Well, I’m leaving. You can come with me or wait on the others.” She began to make her way over to the door and Peter followed.
It was a longish walk, but neither seemed to mind, walking side by side in a companionable silence for a while. The street lights had garlands on them and all the store fronts looked cheerfully decorated, it nearly being a week until Christmas.
Peter walked Sophie up to her door, feeling unnecessarily nervous about doing so, almost like he was walking her home after a date. She didn’t help any by stopping to talk at the door instead of going right in.
“You guys need to come to the club more often; it was fun having you around.”
Peter nodded and fidgeted a bit. “We’ll try.” Peter looked down at his shoes for a second. “What are you doing for Christmas?”
Sophie laughed. “More than likely I’ll be at your place….Myrtle will want to be with Micky, and Christmas is a drag with just two people.”
“You’re more than welcome to come.”
Sophie smiled a bit. “Thank you, Pete.” She swatted at a little bug that was flying around, and doing so she caught a glimpse of something above her door. She tsked.
“Typical Myrtle; hang mistletoe right above the door.” Normally, Sophie may have been the one behind that, but this year it was all on Myrtle. Sophie thought she must have talked Hilda into helping her because Myrtle couldn’t reach that high.
Sophie looked at Peter; he was glancing sporadically back and forth from the door to her face, as if trying to decide what to do.
Sophie sighed and turned her key in the lock. “Goodnight, Peter.” She opened her door and was halfway inside before Peter made a strange choking noise and reached out to touch her shoulder.
Sophie turned back. “Yeah?”
Peter hesitated for a moment, as if trying to work out what to do next. He stepped closer to Sophie, his hand still on her shoulder. He slipped his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her face to his.
Sophie had been leaning against the door frame and she was suddenly grateful for this because she thought that she may have fallen over. She felt completely swept away. She didn’t feel ready when Peter broke the kiss a moment later, but she saw immediately why he had done so.
The Monkeemobile had just pulled up, and their friends were pouring out of it, laughing and cutting up.
“Oh, Sophie! There you are, you had me worried…” Myrtle made her way up to the apartment after kissing Micky goodnight and whispering something at him.
“We walked home,” Sophie said, her eyes not leaving Peter’s.
“I see that.” Myrtle walked between the two into the apartment, Hilda not far behind, waving good-bye to Mike.
Quite suddenly, the two were alone again. Peter looked away, shy again.
“Goodnight Peter,” Sophie said again. This time he nodded.
“Goodnight.” Secretly he was thinking it was unlikely he would sleep much that night. Secretly she was thinking the same thing.
He started to walk away, but he turned back. “I’ll see you at Christmas?” He sounded worried and unsure, as if he had scared her off.
Sophie smiled and nodded. “If not before,” and with that she shut the door.