"You're late," Micky heard as soon as he'd entered the house.
"Sorry," he called out to wherever the voice might be. "I was helping Davy and Mike move some furniture around."
"You're still late," the voice replied.
"I'm sorry," he replied, wondering where she was.
Maggie stepped into the hallway, where he was. She was wearing a light, lacy, nightgown. Micky's eyes grew big. He took a step toward her and put his arms around her waist.
"Will you forgive me?" he asked, turning on the charm. Maggie looked into his eyes, and put her hands on his.
And pushed him away. "No," she replied. "You have to learn."
"Learn?" he echoed blankly.
"Yes. You need to learn to be punctual, Micky," she replied. She stepped back from him, and he stared back at her for a moment, trying to figure out what she was talking about. "I'm sure you will learn eventually," she added. "But for tonight, you have to be punished."
"I do?" he asked, and a mischievous grin danced across his face. He took a step forward. "What kind of punishment?" he asked.
She stepped back again, pushing him away from her. "No dinner," she replied. His eyes widened in shock.
"What?" he asked. "What do you mean?"
"Just that," she replied. "I ate a half an hour ago. If you wanted food you would have been here on time. But you weren't. "
"Listen, Maggie, I said I'm sorry. I was helping the guys move some furniture around. I swear. You can call 'em an ask 'em yourself," he began, but she wasn't listening.
"I said no dinner, and I meant it, Micky," she replied. "Come to bed. "
"Bed?" he asked. "It's only six-thirty."
"I know," she replied. "But you don't get dinner, remember? And that means you go straight to bed." She took him by the hand and led him up the stairs and into the bedroom. "From now on, you'll learn that when I tell you to be home by six, I mean six. Not six thirty." She let go of his hand, leaving him standing in the middle of the room. "I do hope you learn," she added, and stepped out of the room, swaying her hips seductively.
The door shut behind her, and Micky heard the sound of a key in a lock as the door locked behind her.
He went to the door and tried the knob, but it was locked. "Hey," he shouted. "You can't lock me in here."
"It's the only way you'll learn," Maggie replied in a sing-song voice, and that was the only thing she'd say for the rest of the night.
Mike and Davy began to notice that Micky wasn't around very much. Neither of them had seen him for a week or so since the honeymoon.
At first, Mike suspected that it was because he and Maggie were "involved" with "other" activities. Micky only showed up when they had gigs scheduled, and he left right after them.
After a week, Davy began to wonder if something was wrong with Micky. He didn't talk much to any of them any more, and he seemed quieter. Davy began to wonder if Mike's suspicions were coming true. He approached Mike one day after a gig.
Mike was in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal for breakfast late in the morning after the gig.
"'Ey, Mike," Davy greeted as he entered the kitchen. Mike looked up and nodded a hello over the morning paper.
"I've been thinking about Micky," Davy began without preamble as he poured himself a bowl of cereal.
"Oh?" Mike asked without looking up from the paper.
"Yeah. 'E 'asn't been around 'ere very much and I'm wondering what's going on."
"I don't think it's much, Davy," Mike replied, uninterested. They'd discussed this before. "It's probably just newlywed bliss or somethin'."
Davy wasn't convinced. "Do you feel anything anymore?" he asked.
"Feel anythin'?" Mike asked, looking up from the paper.
"Yeah," Davy replied. "You know, like you did before? A feeling of doom?"
Mike thought for a moment. "A little, I guess," he replied. "But it isn't as strong. Maybe it was just my imagination."
"Imagination?" Davy asked. He blinked. "But you were so sure..."
"I was," Mike admitted. "But I'm not anymore. The feelin's kinda gone away a little bit."
Davy thought about this for a moment as he poured milk on to his Frosted Flakes. Mike continued to read the paper. A knock came from the front door. Distracted, Davy put the milk away and went through the living room.
He opened the door, and Micky stood outside. "'Ey Mick," he greeted him. "Why are you knocking?"
Micky just shrugged. "Got any cereal or anything, Davy?" he asked. "I'm kinda hungry."
"Didn't you eat?" Davy asked, concerned. Micky just shrugged. Davy asked again.
"Sure I did," Micky replied with an obviously fake smile. "But I kinda want to eat some more, ya know? Still hungry."
"Um, ok," Davy agreed. "C'mon in."
Micky came inside and helped himself to a bowl of Frosted Flakes. Mike looked at him over the newspaper.
"Don't she feed you?" he asked as Micky poured the cereal.
"Huh?" Micky asked. Davy saw that Micky appeared to tense up at Mike's words.
"Your girl. Don't she feed you? You come over here and eat all the time," Mike repeated.
Micky nodded. "S-Sure she does, Mike," he replied with a smile. "But you know me, I eat a lot."
Mike fixed Micky with a long searching glare. Micky pretended not to notice as he dove into his cereal. Davy frowned as he ate his own cereal. Something was not right with Micky. But he couldn't figure out what.
Davy frowned as he paced across his bedroom. Something was wrong with Micky, he just knew it. But what? His telepathic abilities had told him things no one else knew before, but there had always been something else.
But now? Now Micky's problem presented itself with no real explanation. Just silence and worry.
Micky himself was obviously not the key here. He seemed ok. Davy figured that he was trying to hide something but in order to figure out what it was he would have to do some heavy looking. He frowned.
That was where his dilemma occurred.
As much as he wanted to know what was wrong with Micky, he didn't think it was wise to go prying into him. After all, he was a friend. Davy had decided unconditionally that he would only use his strange abilities for good. But could "prying" be considered good?
Faced with an ethical dilemma, Davy sighed and sat down on the bed. He frowned at the door as if it would give him the answer.
There came a knock on his door that startled him out of his thoughts. He looked toward the door in surprise.
The knock came again, and he laughed at himself, shaking his head at his stupidity.
