Somehow or another, Micky managed to survive the evening. All too soon, it was late, and after saying good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Walters, they left. Micky was worried that Maggie was disappointed in him, because she didn't say anything at all to him until they were in the car.
"Well?" he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. "How did I do?"
Maggie looked hesitant for a moment, and he worried that he'd disappointed her.
"Terrible, huh?" he asked, bowing his head. "I'm sorry, I-."
Maggie lifted his chin with a finger, and smiled at him. "Micky. You did terrific."
"I-I did?"
She nodded. "You deserve a reward," she said with a seductive smile. Micky smiled mischievously.
"What...sort of reward?" he asked with a grin.
"You'll see when we get home," she replied mysteriously, and gave him a soft, yet passionate kiss that made him melt to the floor.
"Isn't 'e back yet?" Davy asked with a sleepy voice as he entered the kitchen. Mike shook his head.
"Nope," he replied from behind the paper.
"I 'ope 'e's back 'ere before tonight," Davy commented. "I really don't think we can play without 'im."
"I'm sure he'll be here, Davy," Mike replied. "He better," he added in a lower voice.
The door opened and Micky entered. He was wearing a wrinkled tuxedo and whistling a song as he entered. Davy and Mike looked up as he entered the kitchen.
"'Ey," Davy commented, and let out a low whistle. "What's with that outfit?"
Micky looked down at the tuxedo and grinned sheepishly. "Don'tcha like it?" he asked.
"Love it," Mike drawled. "Would look better if it wasn't so wrinkled, though," he added.
"Micky," Davy asked again. "Why are you wearing it?"
Micky shrugged off the question with a wave of the hand. He stepped around Davy and opened the refrigerator. "Went to a party last night," he replied, taking out a carton of orange juice and stepping to the cabinet to get a glass.
"Musta been some party," Mike commented. "You wear that and it comes home lookin' like a truck ran over it."
Micky grinned and shrugged non-chalantly as he poured himself some juice. "Eh, it was okay," he replied.
Davy and Mike exchanged glances, but neither said anything. Micky finished his glass of orange juice and put it in the sink. "Well, I better go get changed," he said, and left the room, heading for his bedroom.
Mike and Davy watched him go, and then exchanged glances again. "Where do you think 'e went?" Davy asked.
"I dunno," Mike replied. "But I think he's lyin', and I think somethin' bad's gonna happen."
"Why?"
"I dunno, man. Just a feeling. What's your take?"
Davy thought for a second before responding. "I think 'e was with the girl last night. That 'e met at the club. But I don't know where 'e coulda taken 'er dressed like that. Not just any old club. And I do think he's lying," he added. "I just don't know what about, or why."
Mike heaved a sigh and put the newspaper down. "Well, I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," he replied with a shrug. He stood up and began to leave the room. "If you talk to him, tell him that the gig's at seven. I want both 'o you back here at six so we can practice, ya hear?" Davy nodded. "Good."
"Where you going?" he asked, curious.
"To tell Peter," Mike replied, and left.
