Rated PG-13. There is some strong language, a little violence, and a sexually suggestive situation. Please don't read this if you find any of these things offensive. It is essential to the storyline and I tried to keep it mild and tasteful but real. Thanks!
The front door opened and closed without a sound. An utterly defeated Davy went into his bedroom without acknowledging the presence of his friends. Peter started to go after him but Mike stopped him.
"Leave him alone. He needs some time. Why don't we just find something to do? He'll talk when he's ready."
While none of them felt like doing anything other than helping their pal, they all knew they had to give Davy the space to work through whatever was troubling him. They would be there for him when he needed them. Until then, they had to stay away.
Noon came and Peter tried to coax Davy out of his room with a meal of fish and chips. That was one of Davy's favorite meals, but Peter's attempt didn't prompt a sound from behind the door.
Mike thought maybe Davy was coming around when he came into the living room a while later, but it was only a need for the bathroom. He still moved as if he was in a trance. Mike was beginning to be more than concerned for the young Englishman.
It was the jokester Micky who could stand it no longer when dinner passed without any response to their sympathetic prodding to come out and eat.
Micky gradually opened the door and found Davy lying on the bed. The normally immaculate bloke was unshaven, and his hair had bits of straw still tangled in it. It seemed as if his soul had been ripped from his body. It scared Micky to see his little sparring partner this way.
"Dave, uh, what happened last night? Please talk to me." Davy didn't blink.
"We're all worried about you, man. We want to help you." Nothing.
Micky felt desperate. "Okay, Davy. I'm just going to sit here with you until you're ready to talk. If you don't wanna talk to me, tell me who you'll talk to. You've gotta open up to somebody. Please."
Micky sat down on Peter's bed and closed his eyes. He didn't know how to put his emotions into a prayer. He just asked God to help Davy because he didn't know what else to do. The two stayed there like that for nearly an hour. Without warning, Davy started to speak in a trembling voice. His eyes were far away, and Micky realized that Davy was living last evening all over again.
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Davy made a quick stop at the florist before heading to Cherrie's apartment. Once he had the the perfect long-stemmed roses in hand, he jumped back in the car and peeled rubber out of the parking lot.
"Oh, man!" Davy thought as he pulled up. "It doesn't look like she's home after all." There were no lights visible in the window and it was too early for her to be in bed. "Maybe she's in her room reading."
Davy once again took the stairs two at a time. He knew he couldn't bear to wait another day until he saw his darling Cherrie. She had to be home!
Standing outside her door, he could hear the phonograph playing some soft, romantic music. He rang the buzzer and waited. When no one answered, he rang again. His heart began to pound as time passed and Cherrie didn't come to the door.
"Cherrie, it's Davy," he called as he banged on the door. Suddenly the music stopped. Davy sensed something was terribly wrong. He tried the doorknob and found it turned easily. What he saw when he opened the door made him sick to his stomach.
The light from the hallway illuminated Cherrie, who was on the sofa with her blouse unbuttoned. Next to her was a man that he recognized from The Whiskey as the lead singer for The Seeds. All the color drained from Davy's face.
"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Davy roared. He hurled himself at the man and started beating him in the face and ribs. Cherrie screamed for him to stop. Then Sky flung Davy to the ground and stood up. He flicked the lamp on and laughed at the much smaller man on the floor.
"Hey, man. I'm not into all this crap over a chick. I will give you this much, though. For a shrimp you've got a pretty good right cross." Sky sauntered to the door while massaging his chin and added, "Cherrie, I'll call you this weekend."
Davy slowly rose and stared at his girlfriend in disbelief. He couldn't even speak. The silence grew deafening as Cherrie fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. She couldn't bring herself to look at Davy. But as the tension mounted and he still didn't move, she grew defensive. She looked at him with defiance in her once loving eyes.
"You weren't supposed to come tonight! You told me you had to work! This would never have happened if you hadn't come busting in here!"
Davy snapped. "I thought I was surprising my girlfriend! I didn't know I had to have a bloody ticket and stand in line to see you! Have you been lying to me the whole time? HAVE YOU?" The muscle in his jaw twitched with anger.
"No! I do love you!" Cherrie was starting to cry, but Davy wasn't buying it.
"Love me? You must be joking! Do you think I'm that stupid?" Seeing Cherrie's expression, he snarled, "You do! You take me for quite the fool." Davy unconsciously stepped away from the girl as if seeing her for the first time. A look of total disgust washed over his face. "You don't know the first bloody thing about love."
It was Cherrie's turn to snap. "Who are you to tell me what I do or don't know! Mr. Glamour with girls throwing themselves at you! Singing songs about love to a group of teenagers and picking out which one you'll take back to your room after the show! You want me to sit here pining for you while you're out on the road chasing every female that you see! Fat chance!" Cherrie's eyes glittered with bitterness. Her mouth was a hard line. All traces of the charming young woman that had won Davy's heart had vanished. "If you want to be with me, Davy baby, you'd better get one thing straight. You don't own me."
"Where's all this coming from? YOU'RE the one who was crying and insisting that I think of no other woman when I sing." He stopped short. An ugly thought crept up on him. "Wait a minute. Did you want Davy Jones the man, or Davy Jones of The Monkees? The singer who makes records?" There was no reply to his question. "I didn't see it before. Me, Sky Saxon...how many others have there been? Apparently someone at some point has treated you like dirt, but it wasn't me. I've never given you one reason to doubt my feelings for you. I trusted you when you said you felt the same way." At this point the young man's voice broke. He struggled to continue. "Being in love doesn't mean ownership. It's caring enough about another person to be honest, really honest. It's wanting to be with that one person more than anything else. I thought we both wanted that."
"That's a beautiful fairy tale, but let's be real. Being in love is having a good time with each other. It's being attracted to each other. It's the here and now, not some misty-eyed future that never happens. I love you right now. That's what I said. We never had any conversations about not seeing other people or being together forever. I don't like to limit my possibilities." Cherrie smiled seductively and started toward Davy. "We've been having fun. Why spoil it? We'll see each other when we can like we have been for as long as it's good. Don't worry about the rest of the time. Understand?" She reached out to stroke his cheek.
Davy caught her hand in mid-air. His voice fell dangerously low. "It's you that had better understand. You can do whatever you like, with whoever you like, whenever you like. It's no longer any of my concern. I pity you, Cherrie. When I looked at you, I saw an angel. I never thought you were capable of treating love like something you use and then throw away. What a shame your beauty is only skin deep."
Cherrie stood with hands on her hips, furious that she didn't have the upper hand in this argument. "Davy! You can't talk to me like that! Davy!"
Davy walked out without shutting the door behind him. On the floor lay the roses, forgotten.
Chapter 15
Chapter 17
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