The wedding went smoothly, and afterwards, Micky and Maggie headed off towards their honeymoon. Maggie didn't want anyone else along on the drive, so the usual driver was left behind and Micky drove. They arrived at the hotel where they planned to have the big night at about eight-thirty.
"Man, this place looks packed," Micky commented as he drove around the parking lot. "I hope I can find a spot."
"Good thing we made reservations," Maggie added, and he nodded.
Micky finally found a spot and the two of them got out of the car and headed for the entrance.
The room they got, "Honeymoon Suite," was beautiful. It was designed for a couple on a honeymoon.
The center of the room had a large bed with four large bedposts and a canopy that stretched over them. The canopy was lacy white and the bedspread was light blue.
The rest of the room was beautiful as well. The rug was a light blue, to match the bedspread on the bed, and the walls were a pale beige. Lacy white curtains hung over the walls.
Micky opened the door, and looked in. Maggie, standing behind him, craned to look over his shoulder, but couldn't.
"Wait here," he insisted. He picked up their bags and entered the room, shutting the door behind him. Then he came out a few minutes later and carried Maggie in.
She was a bit surprised. "What are you doing?" she asked, as he picked her up and carried her into the room.
Micky didn't respond, he just carried her into the room, shutting the door behind them, and dropping her softly on the bed in the center.
"Carrying you over the threshold," he replied with a smile.
"Sweet of you," Maggie replied. She got up and began to look for her bag. "Now it's my turn to fulfill another wedding tradition," she replied with a mischievous smile. She found her bag where he'd placed it, next to the bed.
"What's that?" he asked, wondering if she was going to kiss him or something else. But she just smiled mischievously and picked up her bag. Then she walked past him toward the bathroom on the side of the bed.
"Spend an hour getting ready," she replied, stepping in and closing the door before he could reply.
The others didn't hear from Micky for a week but weren't worried. They certainly didn't expect Micky to call while he was on his honeymoon, and knew that if anything bad happened, Davy would know.
Exactly one week after they had left, Micky burst into the Pad in the middle of the afternoon. It was pretty quiet at the pad. Since he'd moved out and Peter had moved out, there were only two left, and neither of them appeared to be in the living room.
"Hey guys, I'm home," he called, but got no response. Frowning in puzzlement, he headed into the kitchen, wondering if perhaps they were eating in there.
But the kitchen was empty, too. Micky frowned again. Where had they gone in the middle of the afternoon. The car was still here, so they couldn't have gone far. Then he smiled as an idea dawned on him, and he smiled, heading out the back door to the beach.
But from the porch overlooking the beach, he could tell that they weren't out there. A few girls walked by, and he could see a few couples, but no sign of either Mike or Davy.
"Maybe they're over at Peter's," he thought aloud, and crossed the living room, heading for the front door.
Before he had even reached it, however he heard a thump from the upstairs bedroom, and a loud shout. The sound of Davy-giggles filtered down from above, and Micky guessed that Mike must have dropped something heavy on his foot, which Davy was finding amusing.
Eager to see what they were doing, Micky headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and headed into the bedroom.
His suspicions were confirmed the minute he entered the room. Mike was sitting on his bed, rubbing his foot, and Davy was sitting on another, trying hard not to laugh.
"Hi guys," Micky greeted. "What're you doing up here?"
"'Ey, you're back," Davy said. "'Ow was it?" he asked with a slight wink.
Micky just shrugged. "Um, are you okay, Mike?" he asked.
Mike mumbled something incoherently as he took off his shoe and examined his foot, trying to see if he'd bruised it.
"'E'll be okay," Davy replied. "Just dropped the bed on 'is foot, that's all." He smiled slightly but forced himself not to laugh when Mike shot him an irritated glance.
"The bed?" Micky asked. "I'm confused. Why are you movin' the bed?"
Mike answered him, as he put his sock on his foot again. "We're movin' Davy downstairs," he replied. "No sense in makin' both of us sleep up here when there's a whole bedroom downstairs nobody's usin'," he added with a shrug.
"We were thinking about moving," Davy confessed. "Since this place is a bit small for only two of us."
"But we decided not to," Mike finished. "It's kinda grown on us," he added as he put his shoe back on his foot.
"Oh," Micky replied. "Want some help?"
"Sure," Mike replied, and Davy nodded.
The rest of the afternoon was spent dismantling Davy's bed, carrying it downstairs, and then reassembling it again in the other bedroom.
Davy carried the rest of his stuff down, and Mike and Micky helped him to carry some of it.
Exhausted, they all flopped down on the couch after they finished.
"Oh, man," Davy moaned, looking at the clock. It was nearly six.
"Shoot," Micky said, standing up. "I gotta get home, guys," he added, and burst out the door before the other two could say a word.
"Well?" Davy asked. Mike shrugged.
"I just don't know Dave," he replied. "There's somethin' here I don't like."
