Two Different Roads

She Works Hard For The Money

It was now the morning of December third. "Just what do you think you're doing Missy?" Mike asked impatiently while kissing Ellen's neck.
"I'm calling Bob to find out what time he wants you guys to do the final run-through before the show tonight."
"Couldn't you have shut it off for a little longer?" He complained, his nose enveloped in her hair now, his hands gently teasing her breasts.
"Not really. We both have to get back to work."
"Do we really? Couldn't we just build a hut on the beach and spend most of our time making love? We could survive on coconuts and whatever I could get for playing for the tourists."
"Don't tempt me Baby...no Bob, not you."
II

Ellen instantly began having disturbing flashbacks of the Philippines when she and her new husband left the hotel to drive to the concert venue where the next item on the agenda, the pre-show press conference would take place and were faced with a crowd undoubtedly waiting to bombard her and Mike with questions about their relationship. Large groups made her anxious, had ever since that horrible day.

"I'm right here, Baby," he assured her, sensing her discomfort.
"Hold Me," she begged, hating that she felt so helpless, so afraid.
He slipped a comforting arm around her waist, held the hand of the arm she wound around his, and they faced the gauntlet together.
The path to the waiting car seemed incredibly long , the noise of all the overlapping questions and the blinding flash of cameras almost unbearable.
"Just a few more steps Baby."
She let out an audible sigh of relief when they were finally inside the car, separated from the mob.
"I've never seen you that freaked out Honey. Want to tell me what that was all about?"
She explained on the way.
"I'm sorry Baby. Not exactly what you signed up for when you fell for a dirt poor musician from Texas is it?" He shook his head "It must have been a nice break from all the madness. Now I've brought it right back to you."
She smiled, tried to ward off the last vestiges of nerves. "You're worth it Michael. You're worth all of it."
III

The press conference would begin soon, and Peter hadn't yet arrived. Naturally it was Ellen's job to find out why. No one in the entourage had seen him, and he wasn't answering the phone in his suite. Finally on sheer gut intuition she phoned her sister. It certainly wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility that she had inspired Peter to take a trip down memory lane at the worst possible time.
"Vicky I have a job to do, and part of that job is keeping track of the guys, so you'd better not fuck around with me. Have you seen Peter? Is he with you?"
"I'll take it...am I in trouble Mommy?"
"You will be if you don't get your ass down here in the next fifteen minutes."
"I'll be there...sorry El."
She hung up was immediately confronted with her angry boss. "Where is the bastard?"
"With my sister," she admitted.
"Your SISTER? What the hell? YOU were messing around with Nesmith, and now SHE'S fucking Peter? Did you guys set out on purpose to make my life a living hell?"
"Bob calm down. He said he'd be here."
"I hope they skewer and fricasee you and Mike in that press conference. Maybe you'll get a taste of the shit I have to deal with."
"Come on, you love us."
"You maybe-Nesmith I could go either way. Sometimes I want to kick his arrogant ass personally."
"You're talking about my darling husband."
"Don't remind me. Yet another hassle I now have to deal with. If Peter isn't here in a few minutes I'm firing YOU."
"But it's Vicky's fault."
"SHE doesn't work for me."

IV

Mike didn't even wait for the question to be asked. He headed it off entirely. "Did I get married? Yes. Will I talk about it? No. Next?"
Ellen could have kissed him for it. It wouldn't be the end of things, obviously, but it was over for now.

The concert went well too. "What I could actually hear sounded great Guys."
"Thanks Ellen. I was lost. The only way I could even keep time was to watch Mike's foot tapping, " Micky told her.
"All that screaming-how did you stand it?" Elizabeth Raymond asked.
"It's all right. They paid their money. Let them scream."
"That's a very 'Davy' answer, isn't it Peter?" Mike suggested.
"That it is," he concurred.
"Let's get back to the hotel. I want to slip into a hot bath and my hot wife, not necessarily in that order."
"Now he's just rubbing it in."
"Jealous Tiny?"
"You coming with?" Peter asked Vicky.
"Is that an invitation?"
"It's an engraved invitation Sweetheart."

Song: Nez's "Tapioca Tundra"
Michael said he wrote this about playing a song you've written to an audience and how then it isn't entirely yours anymore. It becomes theirs instead. I felt it was fitting here.