Davy was very edgy a week later. He was out of pills and had no money.
How am I going to get more pills? he thought.
"Hey babe." Micky said entering the pad.
"Micky! Do you have two dollars I can burrow?" Davy asked.
"What do you need two dollars for?" Micky frowned.
"Do you have it or not?!" Davy snapped.
"Yes, but I'm not giving you one cent until you tell me what you need it for." Micky snapped back.
Davy had to think fast. He certainly couldn't tell him the truth. So he lied. Lately Davy had been doing alot of lying. So one more couldn't hurt.
"I uh...wanted to get you a pair of sunglasses for your James Cagney impressions."
"Oh, okay. Here you go." Micky handed him the two dollars.
"Thank you!" Davy snatched the money.
"You're welcome. Bye." Micky said entering the kitchen. He grabbed an apple.
"What was that about?" Peter asked.
"Oh he's getting me some sunglasses." Micky replied.
"You don't seriously believe him do you?" Peter frowned.
"Why wouldn't I?" "He's lying. I don't know what he's getting with your money but it's not sunglasses. I'm really worried about him Micky."
"You worry too much Pete. He's fine." Micky insisted.
They heard a knock at the door. It was Mr.Babbit.
"Hi sir. Are we late on our rent?" Peter asked.
"No. What's the idea of that little guy coming over at six in the morning to paint my house?" Mr.Babbit demanded.
"Davy? Painting your...house?" Micky gasped.
"I would've yelled at him to stop, but he did an amazing job! Tell him if he wants to paint my house again, do it in the afternoon." Mr.Babbit said.
"How was he acting?" Peter asked.
"He was very hyper."
Peter sighed. "Thank you Mr.Babbit. I'll tell him."
"Is he okay?" Mr.Babbit asked.
No, I don't think he is. Peter thought wearily.
"Mike, can I talk to you?" Peter asked.
"Sure."
"It's about Davy. I think he's in trouble." Peter said.
"What?"
"I think he's taking...drugs." Peter admitted quietly.
"Davy?"
"Yes."
"Davy, wouldn't mess with that stuff." Mike said heatedly.
"Maybe he got in over his head without realizing what he was doing." Peter said.
"Davy is not on drugs." Mike said tightly.
"Mike I'm just trying to-"
"I thought you were his friend Pete. Why do you want to hurt him like this?" Mike asked.
"I-"
"Hello!" Davy called cheerfully.
"Hey Davy. Where's my sunglasses?" Micky asked.
"Huh? Oh um they were sold out."
"Of sunglasses?"
"Well yeah, the kind I wanted to get." Davy pulled out a chair and plopped into it.
"So what'd you buy?"
"Oh, um lunch."
Micky looked like he wasn't buying Davy's stories anymore. But kept his mouth shut.
"Well I guess I better fix dinner." Davy said standing up.
"Great I want porkchops." Mike said.
"That sounds good." Peter grinned, he gave Micky a worried glance.
"Actually I wanna fix a roast." Davy said.
"Roast? No man. I'm hungry for porkchops." Mike said.
"Well-" Micky was cut off by a rapidly speeding Davy.
"After we eat dinner I think I'll wash the Monkeemobile." Davy said.
"Again? You just washed it this morning." Mike frowned.
"Yeah, you're right Mike. He's fine." Micky whispered sharply.
"Okay, he's going through something. But that doesn't mean he's taking drugs!"
"Search his side of the room." Peter whispered.
"No! Look I'll talk to him."
"He'll deny everything." Peter sighed wearily.
"What are you guys talking about?" Davy frowned as he dusted the pad.
Peter flashed Mike a one eyebrowed raised look.
"He's fine!" Mike hissed.
"I guess Davy's not the only one in denial." Peter snapped as he turned on his heal.
"Where are you going?" Mike sighed.
"For a walk."
"But I'm making porkchops." Davy said. He winced as Peter slammed the door. "What's with him?"
Micky didn't answer. Instead he frowned. "Geez Davy. When was the last time you slept?"
"I sleep. I sleep when you guys do."
"No you don't! You-"
"Micky, you're starting to sound like Peter! Leave him alone!" Mike snapped.
"I'm fine Micky." Davy said with a smile.
But to Micky, Davy's smile seemed empty.