"We should do something." Micky declared as we strolled along the sidewalk, passing several local businesses and a kaleidoscope of people. The middle of the day certainly showed the busyness of the streets, especially on a Saturday. There were mothers checking shopping lists and trying to keep track of their children; college kids looking for a cheap, authentic place to eat; an assortment of random people reading today's newspaper at the bus stop. I liked the crowds and the chaos: it reminded me of home. Since our town was so small, whenever everyone got together, it always seemed like a huge crowd. I liked the fact that at least some essence of home was following me around and keeping me company.
I turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow. "Okay. I vote we got back to my motel room and catch up on our sleep."
"Ooooh, together?" he teased, waggling his eyebrows, and I rolled my eyes. One mother overheard his banter as we walked by and frowned at us, covering her son's ears.
"No!" I yelled, exasperated. I stopped for a moment and looked at Micky. My irritated exclamation attracted a few stares from passersby; some college kids slowed down and stared at us, eager for drama or a confrontation. Their enthusiasm was not lacking one bit: one boy happened to pull out a small notepad and pen, most likely a journalism major, in anticipation of a fight he could put in his college newspaper. "I'll sleep and you'll fix the bathroom door!"
Mixed looks of confusion surfaced on the college kids' faces; the boy with the notepad lowered his pen. He couldn't quite tell the story of two random "college kids" without knowing the back story, now could he?
"I think we should go to the ocean." Micky decided, completely ignoring my statement and continuing on. I stared in disbelief and chased after him, the group of college kids following us. If Micky noticed, he didn't let on; granted, if he didn't notice, he would soon as they weren't being very stealthy or subtle.
"I don't think the ocean would appreciate uninvited guests, no matter how terribly lonely it may seem. It wouldn't be polite. What if the coral reefs aren't prepared for our comfort?" I replied sweetly, and he rolled his eyes.
"You're so difficult." he muttered, and we heard gasps behind us. I knew, I just knew, that the journalist boy was furiously copying down our conversation. Micky shot me a secret glance; suddenly, I understood: let's give them a show, something to talk about later.
"Now that just isn't true!" I protested, grabbing his arm and stopping him with a glare. A smirk briefly made its way to his face, and by the way they were staring, we knew we had them completely enraptured by our little show.
"Isn't it?" he challenged, raising an eyebrow.
"No." I said stubbornly, releasing his arm. "I just have a terrible temper is all."
He snorted. "Right, I'm sure that would explain why you almost attacked our boss."
"He broke my fucking guitar, Micky!" I snapped, glancing over at the group of five watching us intently. "You can't expect me to just forgive and forget!"
"Well, it would be a hell of a lot easier on all of us if you would treat him with some respect." Micky retorted. "You're going to get all of us in trouble one day!"
"Our boss is, as Audrey Hepburn would most likely say, absolutely horrendous!" I exclaimed, an astonished look dawning on my face. "Are you siding with him? Are you telling me he was in the right, breaking my guitar?"
"How did this go from broken bathroom doors to oceans to shitty bosses?" the journalist boy asked one of his friends, who merely shrugged.
Micky and I both cut the act at the same time and turned to face them, looking them directly in the eye. The five of them stood frozen, deer in the headlights. "How about you learn to mind your own business and fucking scram, Pretty Boy, before I sue your school newspaper for infringing our rights." I snapped, and the boy went ghostly white, dropping his notepad and bolting the other direction, his friends doing the same and yelling after him. Thankfully, none of them were law students, otherwise I would have gotten an ear full of how inaccurate and fanatical my accusations were.
I looked at Micky, and both of us started laughing. As I went to pick up his notepad, Micky laughed, "Wow, when you gave him that death stare, he looked like he was about to piss his pants. So did his friends. Apparently, with you, looks can kill."
The notepad surprised me though: I was expecting shorthand of our dialogue, or even our argument written down word for word if he was quick enough, but no. In this notepad, there were caricatures of us, with little notes on the sides with certain lines from our conversation, all precise and neat.
"I sorta regret doing that now. Take a look at this." I said, studying them. Big heads, wide mouths screaming, and he couldn't get Micky's nose right. He took two strides to me and looked over my shoulder. "He's an art major, not a journalism major like I thought."
"These are incredible." Micky gasped, taking the notepad from me and flipping through the multiple pages. Turns out we weren't the only arguing pair in the travel size notepad. "Kat, we've gotta get this back to him! What if these drawings are a part of his final portfolio or something?"
"What would you know about college?" I asked in confusion.
He grinned sheepishly. "Well, before the auditions, I was in college."
"Oh, so you are smarter than you appear to be, Circus Boy." I teased, and he glared at me.
"Ha ha.. you're so funny, Lennox. There's only one thing I don't like about these caricatures though." he stated, narrowing his eyes at them. I looked at him expectantly. "He just can't get my nose right!"
"That's exactly what I thought." I replied, snatching the notepad out of his hands. "Let's go find him. And then we can go to the ocean."
Micky's face lit up, and he grasped my wrist, pulling me after him as he sprinted the way the boy had disappeared. I kept a tight grip on the notepad, and Micky ran faster, only slowing down when I tripped over my feet. Somehow, he managed not to run anyone down in the Saturday crowd. "Keep your eyes peeled! I don't wanna miss them, alright?"
I searched as we flew by strangers who shot us curious glances. And then I saw the five college kids, looking quite breathless and horror-stricken. The artist was still pale. "Micky, over there! Across the street!"
He nodded and took off into the middle of the traffic; a car screeched to a stop, the horn blaring at us. I shot the driver an apologetic smile and turned to scold Micky as we made onto the sidewalk, surprisingly in one piece, but he had already approached the group of five. I followed after him, and when they noticed us walking toward them, they froze and glanced nervously at each other. Micky strode over to the artist and shook his hand; the artist looked at him in disbelief.
"We have your notepad." I said, handing it to him. His eyes brightened as I returned it. "He figured it was important."
"Thank you so much!" the artist finally spluttered out, and his friends relaxed a little, still eying us cautiously to make sure this wasn't a trick. "This was for my final portfolio: I'm sophomore; this is my fifth notepad since freshmen year. I draw caricatures of arguing couples in Los Angeles. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, especially since you seemed so displeased and a little frightening when you called us out!"
He glanced at me, and Micky laughed. I shrugged, "It's the only thing I'm good at."
"Being an asshole?" Micky suggested.
"No," I snapped, and the college kids flinched. "Being intimidating."
Micky rolled his eyes and looked over at the artist. "We're glad we could help. What's your name?"
"Gregory." he answered, then blushed slightly. His friends snickered. "After Gregory Peck. He's my mother's favorite actor."
I snorted. "That's alright. My mother partially named me after Katharine Hepburn, her favorite actress, and my grandmother."
"What is your name?" asked a girl, cocking an eyebrow curiously. She nodded to Micky. "And yours?"
"I'm Kathleen Lennox, Kat to friends, Lennox to foes." I responded, grinning, and the group eased up. Was I really that intimidating? I jerked my head toward Micky. "This is Micky Dolenz. You'll soon be seeing his name everywhere though."
"I wouldn't get your hopes up." he mumbled, kicking a pebble.
"How so?" questioned one of Gregory's friends. "Are you some TV star or something?"
"You've got an eye for things, don't you?" I commented, and he shrugged. "Yes, he will be a TV star. I'm sure it'll be as big as The Beatles."
"Okay, it was nice meeting you all, but we have some business to attend to." Micky said abruptly, cutting this budding conversation short. I stared at him in confusion; he grasped my arm, pulling me along.
"We'll see you again, won't we?" Gregory called after us, clutching his notepad tightly - probably as tight as Micky was holding my arm. I nodded and waved, then turned to Micky.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I exclaimed, but he said nothing. "I thought the conversation was going very well. Why you'd have to go and spoil it?"
"One of the boys was making eyes at you and it was making me sick to the stomach, so I decided we should leave." he answered begrudgingly.
"As much as I appreciate that, Micky, I don't need you protecting me! And you certainly don't get to decide when I leave! That isn't your decision to make!" I snapped, and he gripped my arm tighter, then sharply looked at me.
"Listen, stop being difficult for one moment and let me help you, okay?"
"Let go of my arm now." I growled, gritting my teeth. He released my arm rather reluctantly, but he didn't relinquish eye contact. "You're being ridiculous. I can take care of myself, alright?"
He shook his head and continued walking. I rolled my eyes and chased after him. "Okay, you think I'm being difficult? Stop pouting and tell me what's running through your head."
He looked up abruptly at my bluntness, then sighed. "I'm sorry for being an asshole."
"Apology accepted, but that's not the answer I wanted." I said. He was quiet. "Fine. I'll see you at work tomorrow."
I walked off without looking back, and he didn't chase me. I didn't expect him to, and I didn't want him to unless he came up with a plausible answer. Micky was being ridiculous - that boy barely even glanced at me: he was staring at his shoes the whole time. I heard loud footfalls behind me and turned around out of curiosity to find Gregory, coming to stop in front of me. "Uh, hi.." he mumbled, and I raised my eyebrows expectantly. The way he shifted signaled to me that he wanted something. "Do you wanna get some coffee or something? With me, that is?"
"Oh," I said, surprised. I wasn't quite expecting that. "Uh, sure. That'd be great. Except I don't drink coffee."
"Neither do I." he admitted, and I laughed. "I just figured it was what everyone asked. It doesn't have to be coffee."
"I'd like that." I smiled, and he grinned, obviously relieved. "Maybe you can show me more of your caricatures."
"I think there's a cafe a couple blocks up." Gregory said, and we made our way to the cafe he was referring to. It was quiet, too quiet, awkwardly quiet, so I spoke up, "So what's your favorite movie?"
"Definitely Charade, with Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant." he replied instantly, then blushed. I figured this boy wasn't quite as suave as Davy Jones with the ladies. "They're both comedic geniuses."
"Hah! That's my favorite too!" I replied happily. "I love comedies and thrillers, so when there's a movie that rolls them into one - well, count me in! I also adore Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant."
"I love him in North By Northwest, you know, the Hitchcock film?" Gregory said, and I nodded vigorously. "The ending always kinda threw me off though. I figured Eve Kendall would die or something."
I laughed. "I thought the exact same thing. The ending, for me, was a bit abrupt. I was thirteen when I saw the film, and it confused me to see them in bed and already married when two seconds before she was about to fall off Mount Rushmore and her hand was slipping!"
"What the first film you went to see?" Gregory asked conversationally.
"Roman Holiday in 1953. I remember being so enchanted by Audrey Hepburn. Since then, I've gone to see every film of hers - I have yet to be disappointed." I replied. "What was yours?"
"Walt Disney's Alice in Wonderland. It's one of my favorites, but my mother despised it! She found it immoral and thought only a drug addict would create such a film." he chuckled, then pulled out his notepad and showed me his recreations of the talking flowers from the movie. "That movie inspired me to pursue art as my major. My father didn't like it, of course. He wanted me to be a lawyer."
"You're much more suited for this." I said, gazing in awe at his drawings. They were almost an exact replica of the films. "Did you do this from memory?"
"No, I found newspaper clippings advertising the film and I committed it to memory, then drew them to the best of my ability. That's what I usually do, minus the caricatures." Gregory replied, then took the notepad back and shoved it in his pocket. "What are your parents like?"
"Oh, that's easy!" I exclaimed, laughing. "My mother's your typical over-protective, stern yet loving mother. I get along well with my father though: we're very close. He's kind of a goof. So much of one, in fact, he's usually the Santa Claus at our only grocery store! The kids absolutely love him."
"You have a lovely smile." Gregory commented, then blushed a deep shade of red, looking down at his shoes. I realized then that I had been gushing about my father and a large smile happened to come with it.
"Thank you." I said, smiling softly at him. "You know, you don't have to be embarrassed by a compliment. Just let it flow naturally. Who cares what the other person thinks? It might make their day."
He smiled widely at me and nodded. "Uh, what about your friend...? Nicky?"
"Micky." I corrected, and his smile faded. "That's alright. You only heard it once. Our improv director, Jim Frawley, got Micky and Mike's names mixed up so often he started calling them by their last names."
"Your improv director? Are you an actress?" Gregory asked in interest. "The blonde girl you met back there, Roxanne Albee, wants to be one."
"I suppose I'm an aspiring one. I'm an extra on an up and coming television show called The Monkees." I explained. "The show is about a struggling rock'n'roll group who get into various, comedic mix-ups. It's based off A Hard Day's Night - they're basically the American Beatles. Micky's the drummer, Mike Nesmith is the guitarist, Peter Tork's the bassist, and Davy Jones is the heartthrob."
"American Beatles? I bet that'll be a flop." he snorted, and I glared at him. "Somebody is going to be upset."
"Excuse me? Who cares if someone gets upset? The boys are wonderful and extremely talented." I snapped, and Gregory recoiled a bit at my temper. "You'll see - soon, teenage girls all over the world will be chanting their names."
Gregory gulped and nodded, preferring to keep quiet on the rest of the walk to the cafe. When we approached the building, he held the mint green door open for me and I stepped inside. The walls were a standard sea foam color, and when the sunlight hit it, it brightened up the place immensely. The front counter had aquatic creatures painted on the tiles. My first impression: the owners were rightly obsessed with the ocean so they made a nautical themed cafe to remind them of it. The only thing that didn't fit in with the nautical scheme were the ugly sunflower yellow tables and chairs - they did not fit in at all.
Gregory walked in behind me and I heard someone call my name. I looked around to see Annie and Mike at a table in the corner, presumably on a date. I raised my eyebrows and walked over to them, Gregory following unsure.
"Hey guys!" I smiled, and they returned the gesture. "Another date, I presume?"
Annie flushed and nodded. "That's correct. Who's this?"
"Oh, Mike, Annie, this is Gregory.." I introduced, only to trail off after realizing I didn't know his last name.
"Russell. Gregory Russell." he finished, extending his hand for Mike to shake.
"Nesmith. Mike Nesmith." Mike replied, taking his hand. "This is Annie Lane."
He took Annie's hand and kissed it. She gave him a pained smile, and Mike shot him a look that could kill.
"Damn," I acknowledged as he pulled away. "You're pretty suave with other chicks."
"Well, you intimidated me." Gregory shrugged, then put a hand on my waist. I tensed and glanced at him; Annie caught on and cleared her throat.
"If I intimidated you, I would assume you wouldn't think to touch me." I said, shrugging off his hand. "I liked you when you weren't being such a creep."
Gregory went red in embarrassment. "Now why'd that happen, Greg?" Mike inquired, staring him down. I'll have to hand it to him: he's got a better death stare than I do. Gregory shrunk a little as Mike reached out and patted his arm. "Can I call you that? After all, I don't mean any harm."
"I would appreciate if you didn't touch me." Gregory said through gritted teeth.
Mike stood up. "Yeah, well, so would Kat. Touch her again and I'll beat your ass into the dirt."
"Mike!" Annie warned, standing up and touching his arm. He completely relaxed and his gaze softened. "I'm sorry about him - he can be pretty aggressive at times. Would you like to sit with us, Gregory?"
He shook his head slowly. "No.. no, Kat and I will sit on our own."
Gregory went ahead and Mike looked at me protectively. "You sure you'll be alright?"
"Yeah, you can always ditch that creep and sit with us. We don't mind." Annie added.
I shook my head and grinned, "No, guys, I'll be alright. I can take care of myself. Thank you though."
Mike patted my shoulder. "Alright, take care of yourself then. Kick his skinny ass if you have to."
I snorted, "You're one to talk, Cowboy."
He mouthed 'Cowboy' to himself and shook his head; Annie giggled and sat back down, waving me off to go enjoy my time with Gregory. I waved and went to go sit with him. He was looking out the window and refusing to make eye contact with me. "Okay, what was that back there? Are you one of the assholes that pretends to be a groovy kid in front of others?" I confronted, and to my surprise, he gave an ashamed nod.
"I'm sorry, Kathleen." he apologized, and I cringed at my given name. "We were getting along so well and then I messed it up. I shouldn't have done that."
"Thank you for apologizing." I said, folding my hands on the table. "Although, I won't accept the apology until you show me you're sorry. Let's keep talking."
Gregory nodded, still quite embarrassed from the random ordeal. "So, that was one of the soon-to-be famous Monkees, huh?"
"Yes," I confirmed. "And his lovely girlfriend. She's an extra, except she'll be playing a lead role in the pilot episode. She's a wonderful actress, although the character isn't well-developed and is pretty shallow."
"Then how will it sell?" Gregory exclaimed, his eyes questioning me.
I shrugged. "As much as I hate our boss, I know he's smart enough to find a way to make it work. He developed the idea, he brought all of us together, and he's got the best writers in show business. It will work."
***Ahhhh! Here's the lovely Chapter 11 which I finally was inspired to write. I'm sorry for keeping those who read this waiting so long, but I couldn't think of anything. Now I have! It's mostly a filler chapter, I suppose, but it'll do***