Micky pulled the car up in front of a tall, white Victorian house and steered his way into the long driveway. He parked the car and hopped out, not bothering to open the door.
He went around to the front of the house and up the front path. He walked through the big, metal gate, and up the steps to the door. Grabbing the huge, brass knocker in his hand, he rapped on the white wooden door.
Shortly afterward, the door swung open and a tall, balding man in a tuxedo appeared. He stood, nose in the air, and looked down at Micky, making him feel rather small, and rather poor.
"I..uh, is Maggie here?" he asked, nervousness making him falter in his speech.
"Allow me to check for you. Whom shall I say is calling?" the balding man replied.
"Um, Micky," he replied, nervously. "Micky Dolenz."
"Very well, Mr......Dolenz, I shall check." The door shut sharply and the butler disappeared. A few minutes later, he came back.
"Ms. Blackwood will see you now, Mr. Dolenz," the butler informed him without a trace of personality. "Walk this way."
With that, he turned and led the way into the spacious house. Micky followed, eyes wandering around him to observe the various trinkets and paintings around him. They walked through a long hallway with red velvet carpeting and through two large double doors into a parlor.
The parlor was also covered in red carpeting, with a couch and two chairs sitting in a semi-circle around an unlit fireplace. The walls were lined with bookshelves and various expensive looking paintings.
"Ms. Blackwood will be with you in a moment," the butler informed Micky in the same dull voice and left the room.
Micky thought about sitting down, but was afraid to mess up the cushions, so he just stood in the center of the room. Feeling bored, he looked at the bookshelves and discovered that half of the books weren't even in English.
Just as he was beginning to get incredibly bored with himself, the double doors opened again, and she entered.
"You're late," she informed him with a commanding, annoyed tone, and Micky turned around, sharply.
Maggie Blackwood was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. Her thin figure was encased nicely in a floor length black sleeveless dress. A silver necklace was placed loosely around her neck, and a silver bracelet on her arm. Her hair was red, almost bright red, and it was done professionally in a bun on top of her head, without a strand out of place. Her green eyes shone brightly from the center of her gorgeous face.
"I'm sorry," he apologized, remembering she'd said something. "Got caught up in an argument with the guys."
"Oh? Over what?" she asked without any real interest.
"Nothing important," he replied, and took a few steps towards her. "You look gorgeous tonight," he complimented, hoping she'd take it well.
For a response, she smiled. "Do I? Thanks ever so much dear," she replied, and gave him the once-over. "You're not so bad tonight, either."
Micky blushed slightly and looked at the ground. Dressing in a tux wasn't his style, and he'd worked hard to get out of the house without the others seeing him. He didn't need them to kid him about it the whole evening.
"Thanks," he replied. "Are we ready to go?"
"Almost," Maggie replied. "Just waiting for Charles to bring the car around."
A few minutes later, Maggie and Micky climbed into the car, a long, white limo. Inside, the light was dimmer, and the seats were leather.
"Before we go in, Micky, I want to go over a few things with you, alright?"
"Things? What sorta things?" he asked.
"Well, I just want to make sure that you know how to act at this party," Maggie explained. "There will be quite a few important people there and you have to act in just the right way. So please, don't embarrass me, ok?"
"Why would I embarrass you?" Micky asked innocently. Maggie smiled.
"I know you wouldn't do it intentionally, Micky, but please, try to act....dignified, alright?" she explained tactfully.
"I'll do my best," Micky replied.
"I know that you will," Maggie replied tactfully. "But I'm serious, Mick. These people are very....um.," she searched for the right word.
"Stuck up?" Micky asked.
"No!" she said, slapping him playfully in the shoulder. "I mean they're very...dignified. And they don't take well to...well, to people like you."
Micky was confused. "People like me?" he asked.
"Yeah, you know," she replied.
"No, I don't know," he replied, beginning to get upset. "What people like me?"
"Don't get mad, Micky, it's not my fault," she began. "They just don't like a lot of..well, you know, young people like you."
Micky nodded, understanding now. "I see," he replied quietly, and Maggie nodded.
"You understand, don't you?" she asked. He nodded.
"If you..if you don't think I'd fit in, then why are you bringing me?" he asked, curiously.
"Because I like you, Micky," she replied. "And I think they should meet you anyway."
A half an hour later, the limousine pulled up in front of an elegant looking building. Columns stood in front of two cherry-colored wooden doors with brass handles. Two men in tuxedos stood at the door, acting as the doormen.
The two men stepped up to the car, which had parked right outside of the building. One of them opened the limousine and the other stood nearby. Micky stepped out carefully, trying not to embarrass anyone. He smiled politely at the doormen as he walked past.
He turned around and waited patiently as Maggie stepped out of the car. She turned and smiled to the doorman and then slipped her arm in Micky's and smiled at him. The doorman who had been standing nearby lead them into the building, opening the massive doors for them.
The inside of the building was nearly as impressive as the outside. Wide, tall hallways with red velvet carpet and expensive looking paintings lead the way into larger rooms. Past the first hallway, there was a parlor, with several large staircases heading in different directions. A balcony overlooked the parlor. And in the center of the room was a large, silver fountain.
Micky tried to look a little less awed then he felt, knowing that to most of the people at this party, this was the sort of house they lived in. But to Micky, it was astonishing. The doorman lead them through the parlor to two large doors. A heave on the doorknob, and they were inside an even larger and more impressive room.
"This is the silver ballroom," the doorman explained. Micky almost expected him to have a drawling English accent like most butlers in movies, but he didn't. Instead, he spoke regular American English, and he was somewhat surprised. He nodded politely to the doorman.
The large room was indeed a ballroom. The floor was made of a shining marble and the chandeliers above were a shining silver that sparkled in the sunlight. The light came in through large, ceiling to floor windows that were on the outside walls.
Micky looked around the room with awe, and tried not to show it. He didn't need the doorman (or any of the guests) laughing at him.
Inside, the women and men were standing around talking and sipping punch. A few were dancing, and a small band stood in the corner playing slow music.
The doorman left then after saying a few words to Maggie that Micky didn't hear, shutting the large doors behind him.
"Micky, come on," Maggie said, tugging at his arms. "We should introduce you to the hosts."
"Hosts?"
"Yes," she replied, seeing he was rather overwhelmed. "Mr. and Mrs. Walters." She nodded to a middle aged couple across the room, and he nodded, pretending to understand. "And Micky," she added, nudging him in the ribs. "Don't embarrass me. Please."
Micky nodded, nervousness making him queasy as they made their way across the ballroom to Mr. and Mrs. Walters.
"Oh, good evening Margaret," Mrs. Walters said when she saw her approaching with Micky. "So glad you could attend."
"Thank you, Mrs. Walters," Maggie replied. "Nice to see you, too, Mr. Walters," she added when he nodded a hello. "This is Micky," she added, nudging Micky ahead with her elbow. "He's my...guest for the evening," she added.
Micky smiled nervously and hoped it didn't show. He shook hands with Mr. Walters and graciously bowed to Mrs. Walters. "Nice to meet you," he added, glad he didn't stutter.
"Nice to meet you to," Mrs. Walters replied, and Mr. Walters nodded. Micky could tell right away that Mr. Walters wasn't the talking kind. "So glad you could come."
"Very nice house," Micky added, complementing her. "Lovely party."
"Oh, thank you," Mrs. Walters replied, and he was glad she was happy. "We just got new carpeting in the halls, isn't it nice?"
"Yes it is," he replied, wondering in his mind what the old carpeting had looked like. "
Oh look," Maggie interrupted. "There's Rachel. I just have to introduce you, Micky. Will you excuse us?"
Mr. and Mrs. Walters nodded in unison. "Nice to have met you," Mrs. Walters added. "Nice boy," he heard her comment to her husband as they walked across the room.
"How'd I do?" he whispered to Maggie, but she didn't answer. She just led him across the room.
Rachel was a tall, dark haired young woman. For the evening she was dressed in a silvery-blue evening gown, with a few sparkling rhinestones around the low-cut collar. When she saw Maggie, she immediately greeted her with a hug.
"So glad you could come, dahling," she said with a perfect imitation of some movie star whose name Micky couldn't remember. "We were afraid you wouldn't make it," she added with a smile.
"Oh, no, I made it," Maggie replied with a smile.
"And who's this?" Rachel asked with another small smile, turning to Micky.
"This is Micky," Maggie explained. "Micky, this is Rachel Newman, one of my dearest friends." Micky smiled at her, and took her hand, bowing and kissing it lightly.
Rachel was sufficiently charmed. She giggled slightly and smiled at Micky. "Micky is my..guest for the evening," Maggie clarified. Rachel nodded.
"Nice to meet you, Micky," Rachel said politely. "Are you a student as well?" Micky looked blank.
"No," Maggie replied. "Micky's doesn't go to the academy. I met him, well, at a club."
"Oh, I see," Rachel replied with a slight wink at Maggie. "You into that scene, huh?" she asked, nudging Micky in the ribs. Micky grinned.
You could say that," he replied with a smile.
"Nobody here knows that I do that sort of thing," Maggie explained to Micky. "Performing at the clubs, I mean. Except for Rachel. And she won't tell anyone, will she?" she added, shooting a Look at Rachel.
"Who me?" she asked, with an innocent look. "So do you just go to the clubs for fun, or what?" she asked Micky.
"No," Micky replied. "I'm a musician." Rachel looked surprised.
"Oh my," she replied. "Mrs. Walters doesn't know that, does she?"
"No, of course not," Maggie replied.
"What's the matter with being a musician?" Micky asked.
"Nothing, really," Maggie began.
"It's just that her son...well, her son ran away from home when he was fifteen to become a musician. Against her wishes. He's living somewhere on the beach or something, playing in a band. She never speaks of him," Rachel explained.
"Oh, I see," Micky replied, wondering what he'd gotten himself in to.
