Chapter One
The lively sparring session in the rearranged living room was brought to an abrupt halt by the knock on the door.
Micky hooked his elbow through Davy’s and rolled over his back, the shorter man bracing his legs. “Show off,” Peter chided gently as Micky opened the door.
Micky grinned back at him, then turned to the door—and blinked, hard. Mike stood there, grinning at him—a Mike in a white turtleneck sweater and dark green corduroy pants.
There was a loud clatter as Mike’s staff hit the floor.
The man at the door blinked, then looked over at Mike. “Holy macaroni,” he whispered, his voice eerily close to Mike’s. If it hadn’t held an accent that spoke of a childhood in the deep South instead of Texas, it would have been Mike’s.
“Who? What? Where?” Mike stammered.
“Well, that leaves why and when, doesn’t it?” Micky said wryly.
A low chuckle rumbled from the newcomer. “Sorry. Didn’t expect to find a doppelganger here. Name’s Gavin Lloyd. I’ve been goin’ door t’door round here—” He laughed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Now I dig the looks I’ve been gettin’!”
“What can we do for you, Mr. Lloyd?” Mike said as he regained his voice.
“I work down at the Community Center—I’m a little lost here, looking for 1334 Beechwood, and none of these doors are numbered.”
“You found it,” Micky said.
His eyes widened. “I have?” He looked back at Mike and suddenly burst into laughter so wild his knees literally buckled.
“What’s so funny?” Mike demanded.
“N—” He shook his head and gasped for air. “I was t-told to come here. I was set up!” he howled again, wiping his eyes. “You were recommended to me to help me out—” he pointed at Mike and himself and was off and running again.
Mike looked at Peter. “Am I missin’ something?”
“If you are, so am I,” Peter asked. “Who told you to come here?”
Gavin wiped his eyes again. “Don’t know his first name. Last name’s Bennett.”
Micky rolled his eyes. “Figures.”
Finally Gavin regained some control. “He . . . he recommended you four as actors in the fundraiser we’re doing.”
“Actors? Us?” Mike shook his head. “You have the wrong guys, I’m afraid.”
“I pay well.”
Four pairs of ears perked up at that. “Did you say pay?” Micky said. “We’ll do it!”
Gavin smiled and nodded. “It’s not much—just a fractured fairy tale.”
“Fractured?” Mike asked, gesturing for Gavin to enter.
Gavin walked in and sat on the couch. “Yes, there’s only a handful of actors playing multiple roles—with the exception of the princess and the fairy and the bad guy. I play one of those—”
“The bad guy, right?” Davy said.
Gavin’s face transformed. His chin rose haughtily and his eyes narrowed as he looked down his nose at Davy. “Not on your life, peasant!” A screeching wail of a woman’s voice ripped from his throat.
Micky yelped and tumbled backward out of his chair. Peter howled with laughter.
“You play the princess?” Mike said, incredulous.
Gavin grinned, nodding at him as his bearing returned to normal. “She’s a real shrew and a hoot to play!”
“So what do you need us for?” Micky asked, crawling back into his chair.
“I need four talented men to round out the cast. Bennett said you’d be perfect, that you liked to help out.”
Mike and Peter exchanged looks. Most of the time they ‘helped out’ without much choice in the matter.
“And like I said—I pay well. And I pay by the role. If you take more than one role—”
“We’ll be swimmin’ in dough!” Micky shouted.
“More like wading, Micky,” Mike said.
“Come on, fellas,” Davy said, his eyes shining at the prospect of acting once more. “How bad can it be?”
Peter just leaned back his chair, his hand subtly rubbing the back of his neck. Bad, he thought.
~~~~~
That evening Bennett dropped by, walking in to a rather raucous jam session. He stood near the stairs, idly tapping his foot to the lively rendition of “Shake, Rattle, and Roll” being played out on the bandstand. When they finished he applauded, complete with whistles. “It’s not exactly my cup of tea, but you boys certainly pour your hearts into it.”
Mike nodded at the compliment as he unslung his guitar and dismounted the bandstand. “Mr. Bennett,” he said, his voice silky smooth and polite, “What exactly have you gotten us into?”
“Helping out some people who need it.” He smiled. “Besides, Gavin reminds me of someone.”
“I wonder who?” Peter said, grinning.
Bennett shot a grin back at him, then sobered. “Seriously, the production’s been threatened.”
“By who?”
“Now see, that we don’t know. And I don’t know what exactly has happened—Gavin didn’t give me details.”
Mike glanced a Peter—a moment passed between the two as they made a silent decision. “What’s this production for?”
“It’s to raise money for the Senior Citizen’s center that Mayor Motley set up for us.” Bennett’s eyes clouded as he briefly remembered the too-recent fiasco that had resulted in the loss of several houses. Since then the houses had been rebuilt and the mayor, still wishing to regain the goodwill—and future votes—of the people, had announced plans for an impressive facility for senior citizens to be added onto the existing community center.
“What?” Davy said, bolting out of his chair so fast it tipped over.
The older man nodded.
“Lemme at ‘em!” Micky shouted, bouncing in place.
“That’s why I volunteered you guys.”
“Okay, Mr. Bennett. We’ll check it out. Just . . . be careful what you volunteer us for in the future, huh?” Mike said.
“Aoleus needs to back off?” Bennett quipped.
“Back to the Azores,” Peter said, still smiling as he tilted his chair back.
“It’ll cost you.”
“Cost?” Davy asked. “What cost?”
He looked over and grinned. “Two servings of that heavenly lasagna I smell in the oven.”
Micky whipped the pan out with a flourish. “Dinner is served!” Bennett heaped two servings onto a plate and left with a smile and a thank you.
“Well, guys?” Mike said, fixing his plate.
“I say we do it,” Davy said.
“Yeah,” Micky said in between bites. “Might be fun.”
“Might be dangerous,” Peter said softly.
“I laugh in the face of danger!” Micky said.
“You laugh in the face of oncoming cars,” Davy shot at him, throwing a napkin at him.
“I wonder what roles we’re going to play,” Peter said.
Mike leaned back in his chair, settling his plate on his stomach as he dug in. “We’ll find out tomorrow.”
On to Chapter Two
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