Dreams of Bluer Skies, Part 1, Chapter 4/?

[myo1974]

Title: Dreams of Bluer Skies - Part 1 (ch 4/?)
Author myo1974
Rating: NC17 (eventually)
Summary: Well, it's back. This is the final re-write of “Dreams of Bluer Skies.” This one is definitely staying - I know that because I have actually finished it this time!
The Monkees are starting to get it together. We find out something might be amiss when it comes to Micky and Mahra. And does Mike blow his chances with Destiny?

Also, the origins of the wool hat...
Warnings: Things get a bit steamy.
Genre: drama
Main Character(s): Everybody except Peter. He's on his way, though!
Disclaimer: I don't own The Monkees - too bad for me - but I own my OFCs. And this story is written out of complete and undying love for my favorite band of all time! :)


Mama was back home when I arrived and she asked me how things went. I told her about the entire afternoon and she seemed happy for me. We had a quick dinner then showered, changed and went back to the Vincent.
The gang showed up as promised, though unfortunately I didn't get a chance to spend too much time talking to them. The Vincent was even busier than it had been on opening night and I barely got a moment to breathe let alone hang out with my new friends. Destiny was another big hit as was another chick, a statuesque redhead named Rita. In a weird way that made me more comfortable. I didn't like it when Destiny was the big star of the club; knowing there was another chick with just as much appeal made her seem less...intimidating I suppose.
Wait...intimidating? When that thought came into my mind I chastised myself severely. How could I be intimidated by a kid? But then I didn't have much time to dwell on the situation because I had to help behind the bar.
Finally, well after midnight, I was able to grab a beer and head over to Micky's table. “Hey stranger,” he greeted as I leaned against the booth. “Sit down, stay awhile.”
“Nah,” I objected. “As soon as I do I'll probably have to get up again. So what do you all think?”
“It's nice,” Mahra. “Classy.”
“Why thank you.” I turned around and there stood Mama. “I don't mean to interrupt, Mike, but I wanted to meet your friends.”
“Sure.” I made the introductions and Mama said she would send over a round of drinks.
That was when I took a good look at the table. There were several rock and shot glasses practically covering the entire surface. Most were in front of Micky and Harry. Neither of them seemed drunk, just very happy and boisterous. Micky kept an arm around Mahra and he kept kissing her cheek or ruffling her hair. She seemed mildly annoyed, but in an almost amused way.
“You know,” Mama was saying, “Mike told me you're trying to put a band together.”
“Yes Ma'am,” Micky replied.
“We've been trying for ages,” Davy groaned and Harry gave him a shove.
“Well,” Mama continued, “once you get something together I'd be happy to have you play here.”
I looked at her in shock. “Really?” She hadn't mentioned this to me when we had spoken earlier.
“Of course,” Mama said. “Michael, your my son. If I can't help you...well, at any rate, it's nice to meet you all and keep that in mind.”
“Wow,” Harry breathed when she walked away. “Your mom is great. Our mother thinks music is a waste of time.” Mahra nodded in agreement.
“She is a good lady,” I said, sheepishly and had just enough time to gulp down my beer when I was pulled away by the sound guy; there was a problem with one of the speakers.
A little while later I was doing more running around when I nearly ran right into Mahra who was pushing her way through the crowd in my direction. “Oh!” she said, surprised. “I was trying to get to the ladies room.”
“I'll clear you a path.” Almost like a reflex, I put my arm around her waist and lead her on. It was a completely natural gesture and I didn't feel at all bothered the way I did when Destiny touched me. I suppose this showed that, while she was lovely, I had no feelings towards Mahra other than friendship.
I waited for her outside the lavatory door and when she returned, smoothing down her hair, she smiled. “Thanks.”
“Don't mention it.”
She looked around as I walked her back to the table. “Your mom did a great job with this place. She must be so pleased about the crowd.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Mama has been through a lot and I'm glad to see this working out for her.”
“It's sweet of her to offer you guys a gig, too,” Mahra went on. “I know that means a lot to Micky. He's been trying to do this music thing ever since we were kids.”
“Must be nice, marrying your high school sweetheart.” I inwardly cringed at my use of the same corny phrase Harry had employed earlier, but it was the only phrase that fit.
Mahra nodded. “We met in when we were fifteen. He was my first date, my first kiss, my...” She stopped herself, embarrassed. “Well, you know.” We were almost to the table but Mahra stopped, her eyes honing in on Micky. “I've been in love with him forever,” she said so quietly I almost didn't hear her. Mahra seemed sad as she spoke and I didn't know what to make of it. “When he married me last year I was so happy.” It was like she was talking to herself, then she seemed to remember I was there. Shaking her head as if to clear it, Mahra turned to me. “I guess I drank a little too much tonight. Can you come back over to the table for a while?”
“I think so, at least until the next crisis occurs.” When we got back to the table, Destiny was there.
“Mike!” she squealed and threw herself at me. I nearly fell over because I didn't expect her to fall into my arms like that. “You have to come back to the house with us when the club closes.”
“Yeah, man,” Micky invited. “No sense in the party ending because the sidewalks get rolled up, right?”
The next day was Sunday and as the Vincent was closed, I didn't have anything to do. I had done so much work lately, I knew Mama wouldn't mind if I didn't hang around to help close the place. Destiny was still hanging on me and I didn't know what to do, but with everybody else there somehow it wasn't so bad. Maybe she was simply trying to be a friend.
And despite her, I wanted to be with these people. I wanted to talk more about the band, learn more about their histories. I couldn't refuse. “Sure, sounds good,” I said and they seemed as happy as I was.
Life was good, at least for the time being.
Time went on and I was busy, but in a good way. I ended up quitting my job at the music store and taking on sole employment from Mama. Nearly all of my free time was spent at the Santa Monica house. I got myself a motorcycle, so I wouldn't have to keep borrowing Mama's car, so that made it easier for me to get out to the beach. I could strap my guitar to my back and hit the road.
Our band was getting better, tighter. We didn’t have a name yet, or a bass player, though Davy would do the honors from time to time. Micky was more of a perfectionist than I first assumed and he was the one who kept saying we weren’t ready to appear in public. “Not yet,” he insisted. “But soon.”
Harry and Mahra had a plethora of songs which we performed as well as some cover tunes. Most of the Nilsson tunes were pop, love songs, sometimes with a quirky twist thrown in. There were two songs that we really enjoyed playing, “Last Train to Clarksville” and “Take a Giant Step.” The first was about a guy going off to Vietnam and wanting to see his girl one last time - only it didn’t come right out and say that the guy was going to Vietnam. Somehow without being so obvious about the song’s message it ended up being more poignant.
“Giant Step” was told from the point of view of a guy trying to get a girl over her broken heart. Micky sang both tunes and his voice was perfect for them, sweet and poppy.
Davy took the lead on the Beatles songs that we covered and sometimes he would break out the Broadway tunes to a rock beat which was entertaining to say the last.
As for me, Harry and Mahra gave me a couple of songs to sing, “Salesman” which, like “Clarksville” had a cleverly veiled message. It was definitely about a drug dealer but didn't quite come right out and say so. I liked the tune, it had a country feel to it. There was another song, “The Door into Summer.” It was more like poetry, not country at all, and I had to sing it at a higher register than I was used to. Everybody said it sounded great but I felt a little uneasy singing something so far from my comfort zone.
I also finally shared one of my own songs with the guys. It was called “Different Drum,” a breakup song somewhat inspired by my split with Phyllis. I can’t say the guys were crazy about it, but we did practice it from time to time.
I didn’t see much of Destiny. She was always running around. She made a ton of money working for Mama and loved to shop. Plus she had nothing to do with the band and so there was no reason for her to be around when we were rehearsing. When I did see her she was always flirting and I tried to handle it as best I could.
There were some wild parties at the house, too. My observation had been correct, Micky and Harry could drink just about anybody under the table. They smoked a lot of grass, too. I generally stuck to my beer and the occasional shot of whiskey. I tried pot a few times but it made me feel too out of it.
I noticed that Mahra and Micky had a fairly tempestuous relationship. One minute they would be laughing and kidding around, the next they would be screaming at each other. This usually happened when Micky was drunk and more often than not, Harry favored his drinking partner to his sister. It was Davy who always jumped at the chance to comfort Mahra and I wondered if he didn’t have feelings for the girl. But I didn’t ask. None of my business.
The holidays rolled around and Mama had a big Thanksgiving feast for all of us. I was still living with her even though I was rarely home; the bedrooms in Santa Monica were all full, plus I didn’t like the idea of Mama living alone. My friends were grateful for the invitation. Micky and Destiny's mother was on a cruise with her new husband and Harry and Mahra's mom had recently moved to Florida to live with her sister. They didn't have a father either; he had deserted the family when the twins were toddlers. And naturally, Davy's family in England didn't celebrate the American holiday.
During our huge and loud dinner, Mama said that she could really use us on New Year’s Eve, even though we had yet to play anywhere. “It would be a big help to me,” she said, knowing that even Micky couldn’t refuse that. Mama could be shrewd when she wanted to be.
And so we would be playing at The Vincent’s New Years Eve party. I was nervous but more than that I was excited. I couldn’t wait to play in front of an audience.
There was a problem, though. We needed a name.
It was Harry and Mahra who came up with The Monkees one night when everybody, even me, was smoking pot. Micky kept teasing Davy about his lack of height and finally the Englishman said, “Come on, Micky. Quick monkeying around!”
It was such an odd, almost child-like thing to say and we couldn’t stop laughing. Finally Harry said, “That’s it! You should call yourselves The Monkeys.”
“But spell it differently, like The Beatles,” Mahra suggested. If we weren’t stoned it probably wouldn’t have sounded so right - Monkees? Come on. That’s pretty ridiculous. But by the time we sobered up, the name had stuck.
We would all be together on Christmas as well. Micky had no desire to spend the holiday with their mother and step-father. Harry and Mahra’s mother was staying in Florida and though, of course, Christmas is celebrated in England, Davy didn't want to go home. So Yuletide would be spent in Santa Monica. Micky told me to invite Mama but she declined. “You go on,” she said and that’s when I knew my mother had met another man. I didn’t press, though. I guess I was too caught up in my own trip. I was very eager to spend the holiday with my friends.
I had money, not a lot but some, so I got some records and cool guitar picks for the guys and perfume for the girls (yes, I got Destiny a present). We had a huge Chinese take out feast and watched the lights on the lopsided Christmas tree, complete with piles of tinsel and plastic ornaments.
The shock of the night came when Destiny ran up to her room after we ate and returned wearing a red hat trimmed with white fur and carrying a large canvas bag. “Okay, I get to be Santa now.” She reached into the bag and passed each of us in turn.
“You knit?” I said, surprised, as Destiny began pulling handmade items from her sack.
“Why yes, Michael,” she teased, “I have many hidden talents.” I blushed as she walked over to Micky. She had a white sweater for him. “He’s my brother so I know all of his measurements.” Mahra got mittens and the other guys got scarves.
Destiny stopped at me last. I was on the easy chair, feeling full from the food and a little drunk from the wine. The lamps was low and the Christmas tree lights fell on her in soft illumination. A strand of blonde hair spilled over her face from within the Santa hat and she smiled almost shyly at me.
She reached into the bag and handed over a green wool hat. It was a little goofy, but kind of cute. “You ride that motorcycle now,” she said, “and your hair is always in your eyes. I figure, you can wear this when you ride and it will keep you safe.”
That’s when it happened. Whatever wall I had put around heart as far as Destiny was concerned began to crumble. The gift was sweet. She had taken the time to create it herself. And it was thoughtful. She thought enough of me to not want me to get hurt while riding my bike.
I felt choked up. And at that moment I began to look at Destiny in a different light. She wasn’t some constant seductress, she wasn’t trying to be the center of attention or break down the will of a man. She was a girl. A pretty, sweet, thoughtful girl.
“Thanks,” I said, finally and we shared a smile.
I don’t know if the others noticed a change in my dealings with Destiny, but I was kinder to her. We never actually bickered, but my mood would darken considerably when she was around. That changed in those days after Christmas.
New Years Eve was a blast. We were playing better than ever. I was on guitar, Micky on drums, Davy took the bass. Micky sang most of the songs but Davy and I did a couple, too. The Vincent was packed and our first show was a hit.
When our set was over we all did quite a bit of drinking, though naturally Micky and Harry outdid us all. Mahra was in high spirits and she and Micky were constantly kissing and dancing.  I was happy for both of them. It seemed like there was a good deal of tension in their marriage, maybe the ringing in of 1967 would renew their relationship.
Davy and Harry met a pair of blondes and went home with them right after midnight after sharing a set of passionate kisses.
I got a kiss myself as the clock struck twelve. Destiny asked me to dance with her at 11:50. I knew what this was leading up to and while I was nervous, the multitude of beer I’d consumed lowered my inhibitions. I took her into my arms as the DJ played the song “Cherish” by The Association.  Destiny and I didn’t say much, but I held her really tight.
Then, came the countdown to the new year. Mama had rigged a confetti bomb to explode at midnight and as the tiny colored papers fluttered around us, Destiny and I kissed.
It was amazing to feel her lips on mine. I felt like my entire body was going to burst as we connected. The kiss only lasted a few seconds but it seemed a lifetime.
“Look at you two!” Micky teased.
“Oh stop it,” Destiny retorted. Her usual flirtatious nature seemed to have softened.  Did she feel what I did as our lips had locked?
We left The Vincent not long after that, Mama calling us a cab. I had already planned to stay over at Micky’s, assuming that everyone would be there and the party would just continue until morning. But now it was two couples, Micky and Mahra and Destiny and me. I wasn’t sure what would happen, and though I felt more than a little anxious now despite the alcohol, I still went with them.
We made small talk in the cab, laughing as we went over the events of the night, excited about how well our gig had gone. “It’s amazing,”

Micky kept saying. “I still think we need another player, but they really dug us!”
At the house we did stay up and had a few more drinks. There was nothing between Destiny and me but friendship and finally I started to feel exhausted. I could barely keep my eyes open. Mahra noticed this and told me to crash in Harry and Davy’s room. “They won’t be home tonight.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Happy New Year.” I gave Destiny one last grin before heading upstairs.
Looking back now, I suppose I was a very naive young man. I had been with several women while in the Air Force, I had that relationship with Phyllis, but I still was no expert when it came to the fairer sex. My feelings for Destiny had changed and I had thoroughly enjoyed our kiss and I was happy to leave it at that. I assumed that in the morning I would ask her out on a date, to a movie or a show or something, and that we would go from there. My thought was that we would take things slow. First of all, she was young, secondly, she was Micky’s sister and even though he didn’t seem to mind us kissing, I was sure he wouldn’t be happy if things went too fast between us.
And besides, I wanted to do this right. I thought I had loved Phyllis - and maybe I had, in a way - but I never felt what I now did for Destiny. One kiss had been so exciting. Was it lust? No, I didn’t think so. I had always found Destiny attractive - how could you not? - but I have never felt this kind of longing for her. And it wasn’t a physical longing, that much I was able to identify. It had to be the beginnings of love and I wanted to do this right.
And I also thought that for all her heightened sexuality, Destiny had to be innocent. She was only eighteen after all and even though she was dancing go-go for a living, I still assumed that she was inexperienced.
I was wrong.
I was lying on my back in the dark. I took of my shoes but didn’t even bother removing my shirt, though I did unbutton it; that’s how wiped out I was. The various sources of adrenaline rush from the events of the evening had now left me and I was spent.
I had just dozed off when the bedroom door creaked open, startling me from my waning state. I sat up and saw her, shrouded in moonlight, wearing what appeared to be a short satin nightgown, her hair spread out, cascading down her shoulders. Destiny.
“Hi,” she said, quietly.
“Hi.” My mouth went dry. What was she doing here?
Without another word, she approached the bed and then in one swift motion slid on top of me. Her body was pressed against mine and she had one hand on either side of me for support. “I thought we could continue what we started back at the club” she said and kissed me again, deeper this time, with more intent.
Oh but it was heaven. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t. Destiny rubbed herself against me and it was all I could do to maintain composure. Keeping balance with one hand, Destiny used the other to run up and down my exposed chest, tickling me slightly but heating up my desire. My own fingers found their way to her hair and then trailed down her back. She arched up slightly so that I would have access to her breasts. I knew she wanted me to touch her. One strap of the nightgown fell down from her shoulder and she made no move to adjust it. I couldn't help but comply to her wishes and my hands were on her breasts. I could feel her nipples tighten, straining against the filmy fabric of her gown, pressing into my palms. She moaned slightly and our tongues collided.
Yes, naturally my body had its own set of reactions, but my mind was a different story. This wasn't right. We wanted each other, there was no denying that. But the time, the circumstances were wrong. Abruptly I pulled my hands away and managed to sit up.
Destiny leaned back and examined my face in the dim light, frowning.
“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong.”
Gently, I placed my hands on her shoulders and pushed her off of me. I fully sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. She came up behind me then, wrapping her legs around my waist, forgetting all modesty as her nightgown rode up her thighs. Her arms went across my chest and she rested her head on my back. “It’s okay, Michael. It’s okay if you’ve never done this before.”
I snapped my head up, her words shocking me. “What? No, no, it’s not that.” It wasn’t that I felt my manhood was insulted or anything like that, I was just surprised. The way she said those words told me that she definitely had done this before. Something I did not think possible.
Now she released me and knelt down on the bed. “Then what’s the problem?” she asked, somewhere between angry and sad. “You still don’t like me, do you?”
I turned to her. “Of course I like you! That’s why I stopped.”
She frowned again. “That makes no sense.”
I sighed, trying to put my thoughts into words. My brain was not functioning properly. “Destiny,” I said. “If we’re going to pursue something, I want to do it right. Sex is great, yeah, but I want more than that. And it’s...it’s too soon.”
I thought she would understand. I thought she would appreciate the respect I had for her. Instead, she got up off of the bed and stormed over to the door. “Fine, Michael. Just...fine!” she said, sounding like she was about to cry. Destiny slammed out of the room and bounded down the hall.
I didn’t know what to think or do. My body was shaking from the lessening arousal and the fact that I had upset the girl I had come to care about. It made no sense. I liked her very much, I wanted to treat her right. Why was that upsetting?
On any other night I sleep would have eluded me and I would have been up all night (or what remained of it) thinking, but I was too exhausted. I felt like I was going to pass out and so I lay back down and almost immediately fell into a mercifully deep sleep.