Summer of 1967...
Micky bounded out of the pad he shared with his three roommates. It was such a beautiful day that he decided to walk to the music store instead of driving. He walked down the sidewalk whistling the melody to a new song that he and his band mates had been working on that morning. Rounding the corner, he crashed right into a young woman coming the other way.
“Oh!” He quickly grabbed for the two grocery bags she was about to drop. “I’m sorry.” He looked between the bags at her and felt his heart stop. She stood shoulder height to his six feet with skin as smooth as porcelain. Her hair was long, red and curly and reminded him of wild fire tumbling down her back. Her sunglasses had slipped to the edge of her nose and ocean blue eyes stared up at him. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He was finally able to choke out.
“That’s okay.” She said with a sigh. “Can I have my groceries back?”
“Let me carry them for you. It’s the least I can do.” He smiled. “Where do you live?”
“Right here.” She pointed to the beach house they were standing in front of.
“You must be our new neighbor.” Micky followed her up to the front door. “I’m Micky, Micky Dolenz. I live next door.”
She fished for the house keys in her purse. “I’m Annabelle Spano.”
“That’s a very pretty name.” He held the bags while she opened the door. “Do you live her alone?”
“Yes, I just moved in last weekend.” They walked inside. The house was smaller than the pad and neat as a pin. Even the boxes that had yet to be unpacked were stacked neatly against the wall. The furniture wasn’t new, but was clean and tidy and the wood from the tables shined. She led him into the kitchen and then took the bags from him and set them down on the counter. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He leaned against the counter. “Are you from this area?”
“I grew up in Beverly Hills.” She answered taking the groceries out of the bag and looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He was a head taller than she was with dark brown curly hair. He had broad shoulders and almond-shaped eyes that matched his hair.
“What kind of work do you do?” He asked.
“I’m a secretary.” She neatly stacked the can goods in the cabinet.
“My roommates and I have a band called The Monkees.” He watched her. “Maybe you’d like to hear us play sometime.”
“I’m pretty busy.” She folded the paper bags and slid them between the refrigerator and the counter.
“Sure, I can understand that.” Micky pushed away from the counter. “I’d better go. It was nice meeting you and if you ever need anything, we’re right next door.”
“Thanks again for the help.” She walked him to the door. “It was nice meeting you too, Micky.”
“Great, I’ll see ya around, Annabelle.” He left quickly and headed for home. Man, what was he thinking? She was definitely not his type. Beautiful, yes, but cold as ice. Too refined for his tastes. She was more Davy’s type, although even Mr. Romance would be out of his league with her he thought with a chuckle. Nope, he was glad he made his escape. The only thing that troubled him was why he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
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