Lenora's Fiction Archive

The Dream part 7

"You look great Mike," I heard Micky say upstairs. Mike still didnít know he was goin on a date with Isabel. He thought we were doing another black tie kidnapping before that nightís gig. To that effect, the guys were all in tuxes and Iíd borrowed a dress of Isabelís that her grandmother had given her but was too big. I was the first to be ready, surprisingly, and I was sitting on the couch, fooling around with Mikeís 12-string.

Mike stepped downstairs and I nearly dropped the guitar. Sure, Iíd seen him in a tux in "Your Friendly Neighborhood Kidnappers" but this was even better. He had on the wool hat, of course, but it looked freshly washed. He was in a tux with long coattails, and he had a pearlescent green cummerbund on that matched the wool hat perfectly.

"You like?" he asked me.

"Do fish swim?" I retorted. I winked at Micky, who slid up to the front door and opened it a crack. "I hope you donít mind my fiddliní with your guitar. I wanted to try a couple ideas that wouldnít work with any other guitar."

"Nah, go ahead. Just be careful with it."

"Oh I am!" I cried and played a quick melody -- Isaís cue.

She stepped in the front door, looking phenomenal in the black dress and the earrings Iíd made. The hem of the dress was just a centimeter or two above the ground so I couldnít tell if she was wearing heels or not. Her hair was loose, but tucked behind her ears, showing off the earrings perfectly.

"Ready for a wonderful dinner Romeo?" she asked in a sultry voice. Micky had already snuck into the downstairs bedroom and I carefully laid the 12-string down on the bandstand as I snuck around Mike, heading for the bedroom to join the other three.

As carefully as we listened through the door, we didnít hear another word until the front door closed. Peeking out we saw that they were gone. We slid out of our good clothes and Micky shoved his special-recipe lasagna that heíd made earlier into the oven.

"Where did Izzy find those groovey earrings? Those were the cherry on top of the sundae!" Micky commented as we ate.

"You like?" I asked. "Oh, this is the best lasagna Iíve ever had!"

"Thanks. Yeah, those earrings were beautiful!"

"They really were. I should get a pair of those for Corinne," Davy added.

"Corinne?" Micky and I asked.

"Yeah, I met Ďer at the Dance A Go Go yesterday."

I rolled my eyes. "I donít know how you keep track! But if you want to give her a pair of earrings just let me know. And give me a day to make them."

"MAKE THEM?!" the three cried.

"Yup. Isaís were handmade by yours truly. One of my best designs yet."

"Good job, Lenora. I didnít know you made earrings," Peter said.

"Thatís cause all of my works are back home," I said softly.

"Well then weíll Ďave to get you stuff to make some. Is that why your ears Ďave been bare since you came Ďere?" Davy said.

"Yup. I . . . well, Iíve gotten into this nasty habit of almost never wearing any earrings I hadnít made myself. Isa offered to let me borrow a pair of her red crystal drops for the gig tonight but I told her no thanks. Iíve got enough beads left from what I bought for hers to make a couple pairs, interspersed with the drops that didnít go well with her dress and some of the seashells Iíve gathered."

"But you wonít have time to make another pair before the gig! We have to be ready to go at six-thirty!" Peter said.

"And itís four-thirty now. Iíve got two hours. I can make a simple pair of earrings in ten or fifteen minutes."

"Need any help?" Micky asked as he gathered our empty plates and slid them into the sink.

"Well, I could use a little help drilling holes into the seashells."

Peter got up and started to wash the dishes. "You two go ahead and work. Davy and I can handle the dishes. Just be ready to leave by six-fifteen."

"Thanks Pete man! Come on Len, letís go to the garage to drill those shells."

"Let me go get them first!" I giggled.

I had three pairs of earrings done by a quarter to six. One pair had three shells dangling at different lengths with beads interspersed around them. The second was a simple drop design, a straight fishing line strung with black bugles and ending in a pink shell with a wire spiral, covered in black beads, floating around it. The third pair had large, round black teardrops as the focus -- a pair of beads that had looked horrible next to Isaís dress, and tons of tiny shells. It was similar to the first, with three hanging strings, one ending in the black teardrop and the other two in moderately-sized seashells. But this one had lots of tiny shells floating around the focal bead and shells. I had put the focal bead and shells on wire, then spray-painted several lengths of fishing line black, gluing dozens of ultra-tiny shells in place and leaving them to float and move around the earrings.

Micky grabbed his red 8-button shirt and gray flares and headed into the bathroom, leaving me to dress in the bedroom. I chose to wear the earrings with the three dangling seashells, since all of the shells were mostly pink. I dressed quickly, heading downstairs to help Peter pack the instruments into the Monkeemobile.

Mike walked in at six-ten, an almost-smile on his face. He headed to the upstairs bedroom and was changed into his 8-button shirt and flares by the time we had the Monkeemobile loaded up.

"Ready for your first gig as a Monkee?" Peter asked.

"As Iíll ever be," I sighed. I certainly looked like I belonged with them. Mickyís mother had made all of their matching sets of 8-button shirts and flares and when we decided I was nearly ready to perform with them, Micky and I had gone there for a weekend so she could make matching outfits for me. Peter had loaned me a few strings of love beads until I could string some of my own. But deep down inside, my stage fright had begun to resurface. I had worked hard to suppress it but with the prospect of having to perform in front of a ton of people other than the guys and Isabel, it was threatening to overwhelm me.

"Well then letís go. But whereís Isa?" Mike drawled.

"Right here handsome." She was still wearing the earrings but now she had on black jeans, a black peasant top, and moccasin boots. We all hopped into the Monkeemobile, Mike driving, Isa riding shotgun, Micky and I in the middle seat, and Davy and Peter in the way back.

Please let me not screw this up! I moaned.

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Created by Lenora McCoy

Last updated 13 OCT 98

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