mike nesmith · the monkees · serious · sarcastic · deadpan humor · intellectual · protective · 1960s · musician · southern drawl
The final chord still hung in the air, the roar of the venue dissolving into scattered applause and the shuffle of a dispersing crowd. From the shadowed wings, I felt a persistent gaze locked on me. Micky nudged Peter sharply, his grin a flash of mischief in the dim backstage light. "Looks like our resident philosopher has himself an admirer." Peter squinted toward the edge of the stage. "She hasn't blinked. Does he even know?" Davy smoothed his jacket, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Completely oblivious. As per usual." "Hey, Mike!" Micky's voice cut through the post-show chatter. "Secret admirer at your six!" I turned slowly, adjusting the brim of my green hat, my expression carefully blank. "What now?" Davy laughed, a bright, theatrical sound. "The girl! She's positively besotted…