It was Micky who first noticed something strange about Mike. It had started with the letter. Ellen had promised to send him a picture and she had, along with a long letter thanking him for everything he had done for her. The picture now occupied an honored spot beside his bed that had once belonged to a picture of his mother, and the letter, which had been read so many times the tape on it was falling apart, was below it. And then there was the fact that he had gone to see Ellen's play so many times even he had lost count. No doubt about it, Mike was totally, helplessly, hopelessly in love. Well, maybe not so hopelessly if Micky could help it. There had to be some way to get Mike and Ellen together, at least for the sake of the band. Lately Mike had been unable to concentrate on anything, which was usually a problem with Davy, but never Mike.

One evening, while Mike was gone somewhere, probably just out for a walk as he tended to do a lot, Micky decided it was time to take action and quickly enlisted the help of Peter and Davy.

"As you have probably noticed, Mike is not acting like himself lately," Micky said once the meeting got started.

"Where is he anyway?" Peter asked, looking around.

"Look up a few paragraphs. It says he went for a walk," Micky said.

"What's wrong with Mike?" Davy asked.

"For those of you just joining us, Mike is in love," Micky said, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"That's not fair," Davy said. "I always get the girl."

"Not this time, babe. The Writer doesn't really like you that much so you might want to be careful. No telling what might happen to you, you don't want to get hurt," Micky said. "Any other questions?"

"Who's the girl?" Peter asked, envious that Mike was getting a girl, but not saying anything for fear of what might happen to him. He would just stick with his wild fantasies about that girl that worked at the flower shop down the block, Miranda. Now there was a chick he could dig.

"Ellen," Micky answered.

"Who?" Davy asked, still very pissed that the Writer wouldn't let him have a girl. It was in his contract that he got a girl every time, even when it was somebody else's turn. It just wasn't fair.

"Ellen Farnsby, the actress," Micky said, trying not to get upset with Peter and Davy, which was really hard, especially with Davy. The Writer did not like him at all. "Haven't you guys noticed that he keeps her picture by his bed, he keeps rereading that letter she sent him, and he went to see her play so many times he's beginning to quote it in his sleep."

"I was wondering what that noise was," Davy said, plotting his escape in case the Writer got really mean.

"Anyway, Mike needs our help," Micky said, wondering what the Writer was planning to do to him. That's when he noticed his hair, which had been straight, had suddenly become very curly. _I could learn to like this,_ he thought.

"Hey, Micky, something just happened to your hair," Davy said, forgetting for a moment that he was plotting his revenge on the Writer.

"Yeah, isn't it groovy?"

Peter, still deeply immersed in his fantasy about Miranda, mumbled, "Yeah, real groovy." "Could we please get back to what we were talking about before?" Micky said.

"What was that?" Peter asked, finally giving up on his fantasy about Miranda, at least for then. He could always pick it up later.

"We were talking about Mike," Micky said, resisting the urge to slap Peter. Instead, he slapped Davy.

"What did you do that for?" Davy asked, holding his chin.

"I'm not allowed to hit Peter," Micky replied. "Now, could we please finish before Mike gets back. Does anybody have any suggestions on what we can do?"

"Does Ms. Farnsby remember Mike?" Davy asked.

"She sent him a letter a few days ago. It was about time, he was complaining about not having anything to read."

"So chances are she's interested in him?" Davy asked, suddenly feeling a sharp pain in his right foot.

"I would think so," Micky said. "I happened to sneak a peak at the letter. In fact, I have it right here." He held up the letter. "Observe the following things. It's handwritten, not some typical fan letter, it's very friendly, and it's signed, 'with much love, Ellen.' Men, I think it's time to get those two together."

"What about me?" Davy asked, very concerned about his image and his health.

"Maybe next week," Micky said. "Now, back to Mike. Any ideas?"

Mike returned half an hour later, blissfully unaware that his friends were planning on inviting the object of his desires and fantasies to dinner. He was unaware his friends knew he was in love. He was unaware of Micky's hair morph or that Davy was limping and bruised. In other words he was totally out of it, high on love.

The next morning, while Mike was still sleeping, Micky, Peter and Davy finalized their plans on inviting Ellen to dinner, which is what they had decided to do. "We don't have much time before he wakes up so we better hurry," Micky said.

"Can't it wait until later?" Davy complained. He hadn't slept very well the night before plagued by nightmares that he chose not to remember.

"No," Micky said. "The sooner we get started on this the more time we have to prepare. Davy, you go talk to the neighbors about food. Turn on the charm big time."

"I don't feel very charming this morning."

"I don't care, pretend or something. This is important," Micky said. "Peter, you go to the library and see what you can find on etiquette. We want Ellen to be impressed."

"Why do I have to be the one to go to the library?" Peter asked. He also hadn't slept very well, but instead of nightmares, he had dreamed about Miranda.

"Because you're the only one who doesn't have any overdue fines," Micky explained. "I'm going to call her and invite her to dinner. Any questions?"

"When is it going to be?" Peter asked.

"Saturday night, which gives us four days to get ready."

"Are you sure we can pull this off?" Davy asked.

"Of course we can. Just think of all the things Mike has done for us. It's about time we did something nice for him. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Peter and Davy said.

"Good. Now go do what I told you."

Once they were gone, Micky called Ellen. (Mike kept her number by the phone, but he never called her.) She answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hi," Micky said, "Is this Ellen Farnsby?"

"Yes," she answered. "Who is this?"

"You probably don't remember me, but I'm Micky Dolenz, I used to work at Urgent Answering Service. I'm a friend of Mike Nesmith."

"Oh, I remember you. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was wondering if you're not busy Saturday night, how would you like to come over to my place for dinner?" _Please say yes._

"I don't know," she said. "I really don't know you and I might be busy."

"I guess I didn't explain it. This would be dinner with me and my friends, Davy, Peter, and of course Mike. See, Mike really likes you and he would have asked you out himself, but he's a little shy and he doesn't even know I'm doing this."

"Oh, I understand. Well, in that case I'll be there. What time would it be?"

"Saturday at 8:00 p.m. The address is 1334 Beechwood Drive, but I guess you already knew that."

"I'll be there," she said. "Thanks, Micky. Oh, tell Mike I said hello."

"I will. Thanks, Ellen. Bye," Micky said and hung up.

"Hey, Micky, who were you just talking to?" Mike asked, coming downstairs.

ŒUh, nobody. Wrong number," Micky answered.

"That happens. Where's Peter and Davy?"

"They went shopping."

"Shopping? How could they go shopping? We don't have any money. We haven't worked in a month," Mike said, suddenly noticing something different about Micky's hair. "Uh, Micky, what happened to your hair?" he asked.

"It's curly now, just happened last night. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's real groovy," Mike said, fixing himself a bowl of corn flakes for breakfast.

Peter returned twenty minutes later, a stack of library books in his hands. "Micky, I found plenty of good books and a cookbook and oh, hi, Mike"

"Hi, Peter. I thought you went shopping."

"No, I went to the library to get books on-" He stopped, noticing that Micky was frantically waving his arms and mouthing something to him. "I got some books to read so I won't get bored when we're not working."

"I hope you won't have time to do that. When Davy gets back, we need to have a meeting. It's been too long since our last gig," Mike said. He had often thought about asking Ellen if she knew anybody who could help them, but every time he started to call her, he got nervous and hung up before he dialed. He knew there was nothing to be afraid of, Ellen was his friend and she would probably be willing to help them out, but something stopped him. Several times he had thought about asking her on a date, that maybe there should be something more to the relationship, but he wasn't sure what to do. He hadn't dated much, didn't have much experience, except for that girl in New York, but that had been three years ago and things changed. Maybe he could ask Davy for some advice. If anybody knew about girls, it was Davy. Strange thing was, Davy didn't seem to have a girlfriend for too long. He always had somebody new.

"I didn't tell him yet," Micky told Peter while Mike was in the bathroom.

"She said yes?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, I think she really likes Mike, judging from the way she was acting. I really think this is going to work out."

"When are you going to tell him?"

"Later, after Davy gets back."

Davy returned in a few minutes with the news that Mrs. Purdy would help them cook dinner if they agreed to play at her granddaughter's birthday party in two weeks. They would even get paid for it, taking care of two problems.

After breakfast, Mike announced it was time for a meeting, which caused everybody to groan in protest. Mike ignored them and started the meeting anyway. "We haven't worked in weeks, the rent is late, and Mr. Babbit is probably going to kick us out any day now," he said.

"He always threatens, but he never actually kicks us out," Peter said.

"This time he just might do it," Mike said.

"We don't have to worry about that," Davy said. "I got us a job this morning."

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" Mike asked.

"You didn't give me a chance. Mrs. Purdy wants us to play at her granddaughter's birthday party in two weeks. It's $200 plus, uh, well, never mind that, it's $200."

_Something's up,_ Mike suddenly realized. The guys sure are acting strange. Davy was forgetting things, Peter went to the library, and of course there was that thing about Micky's hair and the mysterious phone call which he was willing to bet was not a wrong number. "Okay, what's going on here and I want the truth," he said.

Micky, Davy, and Peter looked at each other. "Should we tell him?" Micky asked.

"Yes," Davy said, "I think it's time."

"Are you sure?" Peter asked.

"Better now than later," Micky said.

"Tell me what?" Mike asked, a little scared.

"Mike," Micky said, "we are your friends and you're very important to us and the group so we decided it was time we did something for you so I invited Ellen to dinner Saturday night so maybe you could get together."

They expected him to be surprised, excited, maybe a little pissed, but he reacted in a way none of them expected. Mike fainted.

"I think he took that rather well," Davy said.

Once again Micky felt the urge to slap him, but this time he resisted. He knelt on the floor beside Mike. "Come on, wake up" he said. "I didn't think you would take it like this."

Mike slowly opened his eyes and looked around. "What happened?"

"You fainted when I told you that I invited Ellen to dinner," Micky explained, helping Mike up off the floor.

"Why?"

"I don't know, you're the one who fainted."

"Not that, I meant why did you invite Ellen to dinner?" Had it been that obvious to his friends?

"Well, like I said, you're our friend and we wanted to show you how much we care and thought this would be a good way of doing that. Besides, we know how much you like her and we hope it works out for you," Micky said.

"Was it that obvious?"

"Yes," they all said.

"Then I guess we better start getting ready for Saturday night."

The Flower Shop
Friday Afternoon
Peter walked into the flower shop and tried to avoid looking at Miranda, who was smiling at him. She was very pretty, but she was distracting him from the task at hand. Or was it foot?

"Hi, Peter," Miranda said, walking up to him.

"Uh, hi, Miranda," Peter said, mentally kicking himself for being such a dummy.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I need to buy some flowers."

"Then you've come to the right place. What do you need them for?" she asked, putting her hand on his arm.

Peter tried to concentrate, but it was hard. If he fainted now he would never forgive himself or the Writer. He heard a voice say, "Patience Grasshopper."

"I need the flowers for Mike," he said. "Micky invited Ellen to dinner and he told me to get flowers for Mike." That sounded really dumb.

"I don't understand. If Micky invited her, why does Mike need flowers?"

"It's not Micky's girl, it's Mike. Micky invited her as a surprise for Mike." That made a little more sense.

"I think I understand. What kind of flowers do you need? We have lots of different types of roses or irises."

"No, I need flowers to put on the table, something simple, something like that," he said, pointing to an assortment of various flowers. "How much is that?"

"Today's special," she said. "Free." she handed him the flowers.

"Thanks, Miranda, he said and turned to leave, only to walk into a wall. Embarrassed, he looked around for the door and left, hearing Miranda laugh softly behind him.

Mrs. Purdy's house
Saturday Morning
Micky and Peter went to Mrs. Purdy's house Saturday morning to help cook dinner for that night. "We should have done this earlier," Micky said. "We'll never be done in time."

"Of course we will, you've just got to have a little faith, Micky," Peter said.

"Hello boys," Mrs. Purdy said. "Have you decided what to do?"

"Yeah," Micky said. "This scene is not needed. Cut to later tonight."

Saturday Night
It was 7:30, a half hour before Ellen was due to arrive. Mike nervously paced around the bedroom wishing it was 8:00 one second and dreading it the next. "Everything is going to be okay," he told himself. "It's just dinner, it's just Ellen, the guys are going to be here, so there's no reason to be nervous."

"Talking to yourself is not a good sign," Micky said from the doorway.

"I can't help it," Mike said. "I'm nervous. Do you know how long it's been since I had a date of any kind?"

"No."

"Me, either, that's the problem."

"Relax, it's just dinner and we're going to be here with you. Is that what you're wearing?"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" He was wearing a white dress shirt and jeans.

"Nothing really, but you might want to wear a tie? This is a date, after all." Micky opened a drawer and started going through it. He held up a black tie with a coyote howling at a full moon. "Where did you get this thing?"

"I don't think that's right," Mike said, trying not to laugh. "Ana gave me that for my birthday a few years ago. She always did have unusual taste."

"I'll try again," Micky said. He held up a green tie. "How about this? Do you realize you have a tie to match all of your hats, even the blue one?"

"I like to be prepared, but I'm not wearing my hat tonight. There should be a dark blue tie in there. That should be right."

Micky found the tie and handed it to Mike. "Maybe you should change shirts. How about the blue shirt with the white collar? That's a nice one."

"I like this one," Mike said. "That one wouldn't go with this tie. I wonder what Ellen's wearing?"

There was a knock on the door downstairs. "I guess you'll find out in a few minutes," Micky said. "I'll go let her in." He started for downstairs.

"Wait a minute, Mick, where's Davy?"

"I think he's downstairs, but I'm not sure. He may be helping Peter. Why?"

"I just wanted to make sure he isn't planning anything stupid. He's still upset about not getting the girl."

"He'll get over it. I'll go let Ellen in," Micky said and went downstairs.

Mike put on the tie and studied his reflection in the mirror. It had been a long time since he had felt about anybody the way he felt about Ellen. Quite possibly since Jennifer. Nobody knew about that except Ana and that was because she was his best friend. Ellen reminded him a lot of Jennifer, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. Oh well, he thought, Jennifer was a part of his past and Ellen was, well, he wanted her to be a part of his future.

~*~

Downstairs, Ellen was getting acquainted with Micky and Davy while Peter was finishing setting the table for dinner. Davy was trying to charm Ellen while Micky told her things that had happened to them recently. Ellen listened, though a bit turned off by Davy. She had come to see Mike, so where was he?

He had been so sweet and nice to her from the first time they had met. She smiled, remembering the first night he had come to see her in the play. She had invited him back to her dressing room and they had talked for a long time about many things. Nothing had happened between them that night or any of the other nights, but there had been times when he would stop what he was doing and watch her. There would be a feeling of nervous anticipation and he looked like he wanted to kiss her, but was afraid to. She had spent many a lonely night wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Maybe tonight she would find out.

Mike was coming downstairs and stopped when he saw Ellen. She looked stunningly beautiful in a black dress with her hair in a french twist. She looked up at him and when their eyes met it was if they were the only two people in the world. That may be a cliche, but in this case, it was true. Micky noticed this and he and Davy went to the kitchen to help Peter.

Mike continued down the stairs to where Ellen waited. "Hi," he said. "I'm glad you could make it considering the short notice."

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," she said. "I always enjoy spending an evening with friends."

In the kitchen, Micky, Peter, and Davy were plotting the next phase in their plan. "Remember," Micky said, "after dinner we go to get ice cream, leaving them alone."

"How long are we going to be gone?" Peter asked.

"Probably about half an hour or so," Micky answered. "That should give them long enough to get acquainted."

"They're just standing there, staring at each other," Davy said.

"They're just nervous," Micky said. "Maybe we better get started."

A few minutes later everybody was seated at the table. "What are we having?" Mike asked.

"Chicken breast in wine sauce, wild rice, Caesar salad, and Chardonnay," Peter answered.

"Did you cook it?" Mike asked and took a bite of chicken. "You couldn't have, it's edible."

"I'm not that bad a cook," Peter protested. "Besides, I had help. Micky and I cooked this with Mrs. Purdy."

"That explains why it's edible," Mike said.

The conversation soon turned to other things, such as their attempts at success. They agreed to play a song for Ellen before the evening was over. Mike began to mentally go through his supply of songs, trying to figure out which was perfect for the occasion. His thoughts were interrupted by Peter laughing.

"Hey, Micky," Peter said. "Your hair."

"What about it?" Micky asked, almost afraid of what the answer might be.

"It's blond," Peter told him.

"I've had enough of this," Micky said, getting up from the table. "I'm going to talk to the Writer." He headed off in the general direction of wherever the Writer was hiding, but Davy stopped him.

"Please tell her something for me," he said and whispered something in his ear.

"Forget it, Davy," Micky said. "She's not going to do that. I shouldn't be gone too long," he said and left.

"Are things always so interesting around here?" Ellen asked.

"Never a dull moment," Mike answered.

Micky had a little trouble finding the Writer's Room, but that was because it was not marked Writer's Room. Instead, it was marked 'Welcome to Stalag 13 Barreke 2, Apartment 42.' _This is a strange one,_ Micky thought as he knocked on the door.

"Enter at your own risk," came the voice from the other side.

Micky cautiously opened the door and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit and cluttered with books, papers, and other stuff. The Writer sat at her desk, calmly drinking a murky concoction that he didn't even want to guess about. She looked up when he entered. "Hi, Micky" she said. "What can I do for you?"

"You know why I'm here," Micky said. "I thought the purpose of all this was to get Mike and Ellen together."

"It is."

"Then why do you keep messing with my hair?"

"Relax, I'm just having a little fun. I'll change it back. How would you like it?" She picked up a bottle of Liquid Paper.

"Brown."

"Any other preference? Straight, curly, in between?"

"I kind of like it curly," he said, noticing the small bottle. "What is that stuff?"

"Magic," she answered. "Okay, your hair is fixed. Anything else?"

"Davy sent you a message, said he's not happy about not getting a girl."

"Tell him to be patient, I'll get around to him. It's almost time for you to leave. Good luck."

"You promise you won't mess with my hair anymore?" he asked as he was leaving.

"I promise," she said and went back to work.

"I guess she's not so bad after all," Micky said to himself as he headed back to the table.

"You decided to keep it curly," Peter said when Micky returned. "I like it better that way."

"Did you give her my message?" Davy asked.

"Yeah, she said to be patient," Micky told him. "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

"Nothing much," Mike told him. "We were just talking."

"About what?"

"I was just telling Ellen about some of our 'adventures', just a little something to pass the time. You were gone for a long time."

"How long?"

"Forty-five minutes. We almost gave up on you."

"It didn't seem that long," Micky said and shrugged. "Besides, I got the job done. Don't tell Ana what happened, she'll be wanting me to do some weird test or something."

"Who's Ana?" Ellen asked.

"Just a friend," Mike told her. "Don't worry, I won't tell her what happened to you, Micky."

When they were all finished eating, Micky said, "That was a great dinner, but there's one thing missing."

"What's that?" Peter asked although he knew the answer.

"There's no dessert," Micky said.

"Maybe we should go get some," Davy said.

"Good idea," Micky said. "Ice Cream okay with everybody?"

"Yes."

"Good. Davy, you and Peter come with me," Micky said, getting up.

"What about us?" Mike asked.

"You two stay here and get acquainted. I'm sure you can think of some way to pass the time. Let's go."

They were finally alone, both not quite sure what to do or say. _She's beautiful_ Mike thought. He wondered what it would be like to kiss her, to feel her body next to his, to slowly slide the straps of that black dress off her shoulders and watch it slide to the floor. He shook his head as if to clear his mind of the image. It was too early to think about things like this. "We've been set up, you know," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"This whole thing was Micky's idea," he said. "Not that I'm opposed to the idea of getting acquainted. I just, uh." He paused. "So, how goes show business?"

"Slowly," she answered. "Theatre is nice, but I'd like to do movies. That's where the money is and I'm tired of being broke all the time."

"I know how that feels. I never thought it would take so long to get anywhere, but it has."

"No sense in sitting here depressing ourselves. We might as well be useful and wash the dishes," Ellen said, getting up. "She picked up some dishes and took them to the kitchen.

"I don't think this is exactly what Micky had in mind when he told us to get acquainted," Mike said to himself, gathering up some dishes and joining her in the kitchen.

"What did you think of me the first time you saw me?" Ellen asked a few minutes later.

"Oh, I don't know, I guess that you just seemed so sad ad alone and I thought it was terrible because you were so young and pretty. And of course I wondered who Jeffery was. What did you think of me?"

"I thought you were crazy, but also sweet because you cared. Thanks to you we made a profit."

"Did I really go that much? I lost count somewhere around five."

They both laughed at this, forgetting the nervousness of before.

"We better finish the dishes," Ellen said. She reached into the sink for another dish. "Ouch."

"What's wrong?" Mike asked.

"I think I cut my hand," she said.

Mike took her hand and carefully examined it. "It's just a scratch," he said. "It's not even bleeding. Does it hurt?"

"Just a little bit," she said.

"My mother has a wonderful cure for things like this." He gently kissed her palm. "Feel better?"

She didn't say anything, she didn't have to. The look in her eyes said it all. She wanted more and he was willing to oblige the unspoken request. He took her in his arms and pulled her close to him. It felt better than he had imagined it would. Just as his lips were about to touch hers, there was a knock at the door. _I'm going to kill the Writer,_ Mike thought as he reluctantly let go of Ellen.

_No, you're not,_ the Writer thought back at him.

"They're back," Ellen said, upset that the moment had been ruined.

"I don't think so," Mike said. "They wouldn't knock, even if they thought it was needed. It's probably somebody else." He opened the door. "Oh, hi, Mr. Babbit. What can I do for you?"

"Keep down the noise," he said. Mr. Babbit did not look well, even worse than usual. He looked like he hadn't slept much lately and he seemed to be in a much worse mood.

"We weren't making any noise," Mike said. "We were just washing the dishes."

"Are you sure that's all? Who's that?"

"That's all we were doing," Mike told him. "That's Ellen, she was helping me with the dishes."

"Well, do it quietly," Mr. Babbit said and left.

"Charming man," Ellen said. "Who is he?"

"That was Mr. Babbit, the landlord. He doesn't like us very much," Mike explained.

"That's obvious. I don't think we were being noisy."

"I don't think so, either. I think something's wrong with him. I hope it's nothing serious, I'd hate to have to break in a new landlord. Now, where were we?"

Before she could say anything, Micky, Davy, and Peter returned with the ice cream. "We just saw Babbit," Micky said, handing Mike some ice cream. "What was he doing here?"

"He thought we were making too much noise, but we weren't," Mike told him.

"What were you doing?" Peter asked.

"We were washing the dishes," Mike said.

Micky didn't let Mike see he was disappointed. He had hoped for more. Maybe there was still hope. "How's the ice cream?" he asked to change the subject.

"It's not Blue Bell, but it will have to do," Mike told him.

"What's Blue Bell?" Ellen asked.

"It's the best ice cream, but you can only get it in Texas," Mike told her. "Next time I go home, I'm going to get some."

"I've never been to Texas," Ellen said, "but I've always wanted to go. I'm sure it's nice."

"It's wonderful. Maybe someday I can take you there," he said and winked at her.

"How long has it been since you've been home?" she asked.

"About a year or so, but I don't miss it that much. I do miss a few people, especially Ana, but I hear from her a lot so it's not too bad."

"Who's Ana? Micky said something about her earlier, but you didn't explain who she is."

"Ana is a friend," Mike told her. "My best friend really. We've known each other since we were five years old and we've been through a lot together. She has a tendency to get in trouble a lot because she has these weird theories about the government and aliens. You would have to know her to understand." Ana was not very easy to explain. In all the years he had known her, he still didn't completely understand her.

"She sounds interesting," Ellen said.

"Why don't you play that tape she sent you, Mike," Micky said. He wasn't quite sure why things were getting sidetracked, but it might be important. As long as the Writer didn't mess with his hair, he didn't care.

"This may help explain a few things," Mike said as he set up the tape player and started it.

"Hey, Mike, it's Ana. Just thought I would tell you what's going on around here. I'm sure you're busy with your music and stuff. Remember me when you get famous.

"Your mother says she misses you. I guess I miss you, too. It's not as much fun getting in trouble by myself." There was a pause as if the recording had been interrupted.

"I'm back, went to Brenham and I think I have proof this time. I went to the factory, just to see what was going on. It's not easy to slip away during one of those tours, but I did it. They got a new shipment today. I took some pictures, but they broke my camera when they found me. I'll try again.

"There is a positive side to this. I met a guy, his name is Will Carter. He's a photographer and he fixed my camera for me. He believes me, says he has evidence. He's really nice, Mike, and I think you would like him. I love him. It's wonderful, my life has purpose again.

"Speaking of love lives, how's yours?"

_Uh oh,_ Mike thought.

"Don't be scared, I'm sure Ellen is a nice girl. You just have to forget the past."

Mike quickly turned off the tape before they could hear the rest. "Sometimes Ana talks too much," he said.

"You told her about me?" Ellen asked, not sure how she felt about it.

Mike didn't know what to say. He hadn't wanted her to hear that part. At least she didn't hear everything. He didn't have to explain about Jennifer. "She's my best friend," he said. "We have no secrets, it's a promise we made to each other a long time ago when we were kids. She really is a nice person."

Sensing the tension, Micky decided it was time to change the subject. "Hey, it's getting late and we promised Ellen we would play for her."

"Then I guess we better do that," Mike said, very relieved at the change.

"What are we going to play?" Peter asked when they got set up.

Mike didn't say anything, just started playing. The others recognized the song and began to play as Mike started to sing.

"Girl, you look mighty good to me,
And I know that you got to be
The Kind of girl I could love.
You got the sweetest pair of eyes
and your kiss would be paradise
The kind of girl I could love.
You do something to my soul
that no one's ever done
If you're looking for true love
then let me be the one.
Oh, girl, deep in my soul I'm sure
and my heart has no doubt that you're
the kind of girl I could love."

"That was wonderful," Ellen said when the song was finished. "I'd love to hear more, but it is getting late and I have to go home."

"How are you going?" Mike asked.

"I came on the bus, so I thought I would take the bus home."

"They stop running at ten and it's almost eleven now," he said. "I'll give you a ride. It's not too far."

"Uh, Mike," Ellen said when they were in the car. "I have a friend who has some connections in the music business. I could talk to him and see if he could help you."

"That would be great," Mike answered. "I'm getting tired of playing small gigs. The big break is just around the corner and when it happens, I won't have to worry about anything again."

"You're very optimistic," she said, smiling at him.

He smiled back. "You caught me on a good night," he said. "There have been times when I've thought it all a foolish dream, but I've put too much time and energy into it to give up now."

A few minutes later, they arrived at her apartment. "I'll walk up with you," he said. "It is late and I don't want anything to happen to you."

She didn't argue with him as he took her hand in his. She felt safe with him and she knew she could trust him.

"I really did love the song," she told him when they were inside. "And I had a wonderful time."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said. "I wanted to tell you earlier how incredible you look tonight." He gently took her in his arms and held her close. "It's been a long time since I felt like this about anybody. I knew you were something special the first time I saw you. I just wanted you to know that." He told her the best way he could, he just hoped she understood.

"I understand," she said and smiled at him, such a wonderful smile that he couldn't resist her. He leaned down and kissed her gently. After a few seconds, he deepened the kiss.

For the first time in a long time she felt alive and complete. When the kiss finally ended, she didn't say anything, just took his hand and led him to the bedroom.

The next morning
"Where's Mike?" Davy asked at breakfast. It had been another rough night for him and he hadn't slept well at all.

"I haven't seen him since last night," Micky said. "What about you, Pete?"

"I haven't seen him or the car," Peter said.

They all rushed upstairs to the bedroom. "His bed hasn't been slept in," Davy observed.

"I guess he never came home," Micky said.

"I wonder where he is," Peter said. Micky and Davy just glared at him. "Oh."

"What should we do?" Davy asked.

"Nothing," Micky said. "We just wait for him to come home on his own."

Back at Ellen's
Mike woke up wondering why he had been allowed to sleep so late and why he still felt tired. Then he remembered he wasn't at home, he was at Ellen's. No wonder he was still tired, he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before.

What was supposed to happen next? It wasn't like he had much experience in situations like this. He certainly hadn't planned for things to turn out like this, although he had thought about it. He was not unhappy with the events of the previous evening, just a little unsure of what to do next. He loved Ellen, he really did, he just wasn't sure if the relationship could survive after the night before. The last time something like that had happened, the relationship was ruined. He didn't want that to happen again. They could make it work, he knew they could.

Ellen came in while he was getting dressed. She had already been up for a while and had plenty of time to think about the night before. She had only done something like that one time before and it hadn't worked out. She didn't want that to happen this time. She loved Mike and wanted to continue a relationship with him, but only as long as he understood that what had happened the night before would not happen all the time.

"So what happens now?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said, "but I do know I'd like to see you again sometime, just the two of us." He kissed her softly. "I'd love to stay, but I have to go. I'll call you later and we can talk or something." He kissed her again, more passionately this time, hoping that it could convey all his feelings to her.

A long time later he reluctantly pulled away. "I have to go now," he said. "Last night was incredible, all of it."

She didn't say anything, just silently nodded. She wanted to ask him to stay, at least just to hold her a little longer, but she didn't. They had a lot of time for things like that. He hadn't said it, but she knew everything would work out.

"Where have you been?" Micky asked Mike when he returned.

"I was at Ellen's," he said.

"All night?" Davy asked.

"Yes."

"What did you do?" Peter asked.

"None of your business," Mike answered.

"Oh," Peter said.

"I'm going to bed," Mike said, heading upstairs.

"Didn't you sleep at Ellen's?" Micky asked.

"Not very much," Mike answered. "Please don't disturb me for a long time." He shut the door.

"Gentlemen," Micky said with a smile, "I think this was a big success."

"What now?" Peter asked.

"We wait until the next story," Micky answered.

"What happens then?" Davy asked. "Do I get a girl?"

"I don't know," Micky said. "We have to wait like everybody else."