The Music Man, G, Champagne Challenge #168
Posted: Wed Sep 30, 2015 10:41 am
Title: The Music Man
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Moonlight, nor am I making any money from this, though I'm certainly having fun playing with the characters. No infringement intended.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Every story has a beginning. Mick's started here.
A/N: Written for Champagne Challenge #168: Begin at the Beginning.
As always, I thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ who is the source of all inspiration.
~*~*~*~*~
The Music Man
1949
It had been a long day.
Then again, most days were long days now. It felt like that, anyway.
All Mick really wanted to do when he finished his shift at Clark’s Grocery was eat something and turn in early. But then he’d come home to find Jake Dunmoore waiting for him outside of his apartment. He was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be very good company, but he’d invited Jake in anyway, offering him a beer. Jake never did anything without a reason, so Mick knew he had something on his mind.
He was proven right when they were sitting at his kitchen table, and Jake asked far too casually, “So, how’s life been treatin’ ya?”
“Can’t complain.”
He really couldn’t. Stocking shelves wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it was steady work, paid him just enough to get by, and it kept him from having too much time to think.
He needed that.
Jake gave him a long look, the same one his parents did when he told them he was fine.
He’d seen that look an awful lot lately.
Mick sighed and took a drink of his own beer, trying not to let his frustration show. “I take it you’re not here to shoot the breeze. So, what do you want?”
“You know me too well,” Jake laughed. “I’m putting a band together.”
Mick’s eyebrows rose. “A band,” he repeated.
“Yeah. Doesn’t have a name yet, but we’ll figure that out eventually. You’d be a perfect fit for it. You still play guitar, right?”
Mick blinked. “Yeah.”
“And you can sing?”
“I guess, but I’m no Bing Crosby.”
Jake smiled. “You’re too modest, man.”
Mick shook his head, deciding to humor his friend. “Pretend for a minute that I don’t think you’re crazy. Where would you be in all this?”
Jake shrugged. “I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. I’ll manage you guys.”
“You guys?” Mick frowned. “Who else is in on it?”
“Ed Porter’s gonna play drums, and Tommy Webster will be on piano. They already agreed.”
“And where exactly would we be playing?” Mick asked wryly. “Your front yard?”
“‘Course not! What kind of a manager do you take me for?” Jake asked, sounding indignant. “I’ve got a buddy down at the docks who used manage for a couple bands here in LA, but after he got hitched, he needed a regular 9 to 5. He promised he’d put in a good word for me with all his old contacts. I’m talkin’ real gigs at real places…maybe even some clubs if they like our sound. So, what do ya say?”
Mick didn’t answer for a minute, mulling the information over.
He’d dreamed about being a musician once, but that was before. Before the war. Before Lilah.
He hadn’t picked up his guitar in months.
Mick sighed again and brought up a hand to rub his neck. “I don’t know, Jake. Clark’s ain’t the greatest place to work, but I need my job.”
“I get it, trust me, and I’m not asking you to give that up. This won’t be full-time. We’ll practice a few evenings a week, then have gigs on the weekends. And I ain’t gonna lie - we’re probably not gonna take in a whole lot, ‘specially having to split it four ways. But you will get a cut, even if it’ll be nothing to write home about. Just think of it as a fun way to make a little extra dough. Moonlighting, basically.”
Mick frowned, and Jake must have seen him wavering because he pressed on.
“Come on, Mick, I’m serious here. You’d be great.”
“I just don’t know.”
“Look, I know it’s been rough for you the last few years…but maybe this is what you need. Get out and live a little. Take some risks. ‘Sides, I haven’t even told you the best part yet.”
“And that is?”
“Women love musicians! They’ll fall right at your feet, man. Who knows? You might even meet the future Mrs. St. John!” He leaned closer, batting his eyelashes and pursing his lips, giving a poor imitation of a high-pitched giggle.
Mick snorted and shoved him away. Jake just grinned in response and took another sip of his beer.
“Alright,” Mick said at last. “Alright. I’ll do it.”
Jake’s smile grew, and he clapped Mick on the back. “That’s great! You won’t regret it, man, you’ll see. Things only get better from here.”
Fin
~*~*~*~*~
A/N: Thank you for reading, and of course, please let me know what you think!
-Laughter
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Moonlight, nor am I making any money from this, though I'm certainly having fun playing with the characters. No infringement intended.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Every story has a beginning. Mick's started here.
A/N: Written for Champagne Challenge #168: Begin at the Beginning.
As always, I thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ who is the source of all inspiration.
~*~*~*~*~
The Music Man
1949
It had been a long day.
Then again, most days were long days now. It felt like that, anyway.
All Mick really wanted to do when he finished his shift at Clark’s Grocery was eat something and turn in early. But then he’d come home to find Jake Dunmoore waiting for him outside of his apartment. He was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be very good company, but he’d invited Jake in anyway, offering him a beer. Jake never did anything without a reason, so Mick knew he had something on his mind.
He was proven right when they were sitting at his kitchen table, and Jake asked far too casually, “So, how’s life been treatin’ ya?”
“Can’t complain.”
He really couldn’t. Stocking shelves wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it was steady work, paid him just enough to get by, and it kept him from having too much time to think.
He needed that.
Jake gave him a long look, the same one his parents did when he told them he was fine.
He’d seen that look an awful lot lately.
Mick sighed and took a drink of his own beer, trying not to let his frustration show. “I take it you’re not here to shoot the breeze. So, what do you want?”
“You know me too well,” Jake laughed. “I’m putting a band together.”
Mick’s eyebrows rose. “A band,” he repeated.
“Yeah. Doesn’t have a name yet, but we’ll figure that out eventually. You’d be a perfect fit for it. You still play guitar, right?”
Mick blinked. “Yeah.”
“And you can sing?”
“I guess, but I’m no Bing Crosby.”
Jake smiled. “You’re too modest, man.”
Mick shook his head, deciding to humor his friend. “Pretend for a minute that I don’t think you’re crazy. Where would you be in all this?”
Jake shrugged. “I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. I’ll manage you guys.”
“You guys?” Mick frowned. “Who else is in on it?”
“Ed Porter’s gonna play drums, and Tommy Webster will be on piano. They already agreed.”
“And where exactly would we be playing?” Mick asked wryly. “Your front yard?”
“‘Course not! What kind of a manager do you take me for?” Jake asked, sounding indignant. “I’ve got a buddy down at the docks who used manage for a couple bands here in LA, but after he got hitched, he needed a regular 9 to 5. He promised he’d put in a good word for me with all his old contacts. I’m talkin’ real gigs at real places…maybe even some clubs if they like our sound. So, what do ya say?”
Mick didn’t answer for a minute, mulling the information over.
He’d dreamed about being a musician once, but that was before. Before the war. Before Lilah.
He hadn’t picked up his guitar in months.
Mick sighed again and brought up a hand to rub his neck. “I don’t know, Jake. Clark’s ain’t the greatest place to work, but I need my job.”
“I get it, trust me, and I’m not asking you to give that up. This won’t be full-time. We’ll practice a few evenings a week, then have gigs on the weekends. And I ain’t gonna lie - we’re probably not gonna take in a whole lot, ‘specially having to split it four ways. But you will get a cut, even if it’ll be nothing to write home about. Just think of it as a fun way to make a little extra dough. Moonlighting, basically.”
Mick frowned, and Jake must have seen him wavering because he pressed on.
“Come on, Mick, I’m serious here. You’d be great.”
“I just don’t know.”
“Look, I know it’s been rough for you the last few years…but maybe this is what you need. Get out and live a little. Take some risks. ‘Sides, I haven’t even told you the best part yet.”
“And that is?”
“Women love musicians! They’ll fall right at your feet, man. Who knows? You might even meet the future Mrs. St. John!” He leaned closer, batting his eyelashes and pursing his lips, giving a poor imitation of a high-pitched giggle.
Mick snorted and shoved him away. Jake just grinned in response and took another sip of his beer.
“Alright,” Mick said at last. “Alright. I’ll do it.”
Jake’s smile grew, and he clapped Mick on the back. “That’s great! You won’t regret it, man, you’ll see. Things only get better from here.”
Fin
~*~*~*~*~
A/N: Thank you for reading, and of course, please let me know what you think!
-Laughter
I like the way Mick is reluctant at first, and gradually warms up to the idea. Mick's like that. 
Great story, Laughter--you've filled in a crucial part of Mick's backstory, and it's a perfect answer to the Challenge. 
I really enjoyed this story Laughter... 
And chuckled at the 'Moonlighting' part too. 
It really does happen in your head as you read... I love the way you've put it together! Thank you for sharing it. 