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Most of the day had been spent packing and unpacking, driving back and forth between homes.
Mike and Davy were running back and forth in Davy's car between Mike's apartment and the beach house, trying to get things straightened out. Micky and Peter had taken Peter's car and they went to each other's houses to help pack and then went back to the beach house.
That evening was pretty hectic, but when they decided who would sleep where, then things got in order quickly.
It was decided that Davy and Peter would share the downstairs bedroom and Mike and Micky would share the upstairs room. Actually it was all a conspiracy on Davy and Micky's part. They knew that it would be hard enough for the first few weeks for all of them to get used to living with each other, but why add to the problem by rooming the
always cheerful, looking on the bright side Peter, with the independent, practical, sometimes moody Mike. Eventually one of them would kill the other.
"Yeah! And then that would be three paying for the rent instead of four!" commented Micky, in which he received a playful slap from Davy.
Truth was, over the week that they had known each other, Micky and Davy were becoming very close friends and they would have given anything to be roommates. But it was just more important that they think of everyone's well being and not their own if they wanted to remain together.
That night the four of them sat down for their dinner of hot-dogs and Mac-n-cheese, just relaxing and talking about a planned living arrangement.
"OK!" Mike began, "So there isn't any arguing or fussing about who's gonna do what, we should make up some kind of a chore plan. Now we can each take turns doing the dishes, dusting, vacuuming, etc. Sound fair to you?"
They all nodded in agreement, although discussing chores wasn't exactly their favorite topic. Micky even cringed at the thought of dishes.
"I can do the cooking!" commented Peter. "I used to help my mom all the time back home."
"Well are you sure, Peter? I mean, you don't want to trade off with any of us at any time?" Mike asked, uncertain.
"No. Not at all. I love cooking." he smiled his bright, dimpled smile.
"Whew, that's good. I'm a terrible cook!" exclaimed Micky.
"The only thing I know how to cook is hot-dogs." smiled Davy, who had made this evenings dinner.
"You got me beat. I've lived most of my life eating frozen dinners." said Mike, which made them all laugh.
So far, things seemed to be going pretty good. They got everything in order. Everyone knew what their jobs were for that week and then they would end up trading off the next week. Peter's chores were cut down, since he would be making all the meals for them from now on.
So things seemed to be going well in the Monkees lives. But would it last?
"OK, guys! We have the rent taken care of for up to three months. Now we have other things to start working on." started Mike. He had somehow become the leader of this little band. No one named him as the leader, it just happened that way, and the other guys were willing to accept it. "Now we need to get some equipment: amps, mics, cords, etc. After having to pay for three months rent, we don't have a lot of money left."
"I can sell of few of my old things and bring in some money." offered Peter. Micky and Davy nodded in agreement.
"Well, thanks Pete. I've already thought of that and I have a box full of stuff ready to be sold. But I have a feeling that not even all our stuff combined is gonna bring in enough money. Any other ideas?" he asked, looking around.
"Think people would pay to see my James Cagney impression?" Micky asked, putting on his James Cagney face. This brought laughter from the others.
"Maybe we can set up a kissing booth and put Davy in it." started Peter, trying to hold back the laughter. "Think the girls would pay $1 per kiss?"
"With that face? Awe, they'd easily pay $2." teased Micky, pinching Davy's cheek.
"Hey! I don't mind!" said Davy, pushing Micky's hand away. "Bring on the girls. I'm willing to make the sacrifice."
"I think Old Lady Miller down the street would go for that." said a smiling Mike, who had been silently watching the whole time. "I've noticed she's been eyeing you a lot."
"Hmm! So that would explain all the apple pies she's been sending over here, eh?" Peter added.
"I think we have ten bucks easy coming from her!" Micky added, which caused Davy to make a face and bury his head in the pillow he was holding. All the others were rolling over with laughter by now.
"OK, guys!" said Mike, wiping the tears from his eyes. "We obviously can't think of anything constructive right now."
"I say we go for a swim!" said Micky and they all got changed into their trunks, and went outside to check out girls, play volleyball and swim...in that order.
They knew that they wouldn't be able to live their lives as a constant summer vacation forever. They knew that the future held many ups and downs for them. But right now, it felt good to just cut loose from the day to day worries and live.
The next day, Peter came in through the door and saw Mike sitting at the table with a couple of pads of paper, a few pencils and a stressed look on his face. He knew Mike was fretting over bills and cost of the equipment, so he knew now would be the time to spring the good news on Mike.
"Hey Mike, look what I have!" he said cheerily.
Mike grunted but didn't look up from his mess of paperwork. Peter simply ignored his behavior and waved a handful of cash in front of his friend's face. This seemed to catch Mike's attention and he looked up in shock.
"Peter! Where did you get that? How much is there?"
"Well, like you, I put together a box full of old things that I didn't need anymore and sold them. Brought in thirty-three dollars and forty-two cents."
"Oh! Peter, that's great! Add that to the amount we have now, that's..." he did some quick doodling on the paper, "one hundred seventy-eight dollars and fifty-four cents. Good job, Pete!"
Peter smiled. At first he had been intimidated by Mike, but the more he got to know him, the more he found a person he liked and could look up to. Peter knew that behind the tough exterior, there was a heart of gold.
At the same time, Mike's worries about Peter had vanished after getting to know the man better. He had thought that the constant positive attitude would be suffocating, but Peter's optimism was just right to balance this little group out. Almost as if it were the last piece of the puzzle that made the whole picture.
Later that evening, Mike was still working over the paperwork. Peter was in the kitchen putting together a dinner from limited resources and Micky was in his and Mike's room putting together some stuff that he was going to sell.
Davy walked into "the pad" as they now called it, and laid down a stack of money where Mike was sitting.
"How much were you able to get, Davy?" Mike asked, fanning through the money. There seemed to be a lot there, but perhaps it was all in small bills.
"A little over a hundred." he said quietly, but not so quietly that Mike didn't hear.
"What? How were you able to get that much?" he exclaimed, which brought Peter's attention to them.
Davy looked around and smiled uncomfortably. "I just put together some of my old junk and sold it, like the rest of you."
"That must have been some old junk." Mike said, looking suspiciously at Davy. He knew he was hiding something.
Davy just walked away and started to head for his room when Peter called out "Dinner's almost done."
"I'm not very hungry tonight. I think I'm just gonna go lay down for a little while." Davy said.
"You feel ok?" asked Mike. Now he knew something was up.
"I'm fine. Just tired, that's all. Long day." Davy smiled and hurried into his room before anymore questions could be asked.
Peter and Mike just looked at each other for a second, and then Mike started clearing his paperwork off the table so they could eat.
"I think all these girls around here is starting to get to him." Mike smiled.
Peter knew better than this though. He knew he needed to talk to Davy. "Mike, would you take care of the rest of this for me?"
"Oh, what? You're not gonna eat either?" asked Mike, although he knew what was really on his friend's mind.
"No! Not now. Later." he said and then disappeared off into his and Davy's room.
When he went in, he saw Davy lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Peter walked over to his own bed, which was next to Davy's, and sat on the edge. He sat in silence for a minute, and then came right out and asked, "You sold your ring, didn't you?"
Davy had expected questions, but this threw him totally off guard. "Peter, you have this strange and uncanny way of knowing things about people. How did you know?" he asked in amazement.
"Call it a gift." he smiled. "But it really wasn't too hard to tell. When you turn down one of my delightful dishes, I know something must be really wrong. You don't look sick, so the only thing I could think of was your ring. But how come you got so little for it?"
"I brought it to a pawn shop. I figured that was my only way of having a chance to get it back without having to pay too much. But I have a feeling that..." he couldn't finish. The tears were stinging his eyes and the lump in his throat was making it hard to talk.
Peter reached over and put a comforting hand on his friend's arm. That did it for Davy. He couldn't hold it back anymore and he broke down and wept.
Mike was sitting back reading a book, while Micky was watching TV. When Peter came out of his room, their attention diverted to him.
Peter saw their questioning looks and said "He's sleeping."
"So what's wrong with him? Is he sick or something?" asked Micky.
"No!" Peter's simple reply was more than Mike could bare.
"Is that all we get? Just 'no'? He must have told you something. What's wrong with him?"
Peter sighed. He always kept what people told him in confidence to himself, but he figured this was one time when he would have to break that rule.
"He sold his ring." he said simply.
"WHAT?" Mike exploded.
"Are you serious?" Micky asked.
"What did he do a fool thing like that for?" Mike asked.
"For us. For the band." Peter stated as if it was the most obvious thing.
"Well I'm not gonna let him do it! I'm gonna give him back his money and send him down there to get his ring back!" Mike was pacing now.
"I don't think you should." Peter stated, which earned him a glare from Mike. Micky just stared, open-mouthed. No one ever dared questioned Mike when his mind was so set.
"What? Why not? He doesn't need to do that for us. That ring is worth more to him than...than his own life, so he's already proved."
"Mike, he's made his decision. There's no way you can force him to change his mind and if you try to, it would just cause anger between you two, and I don't want to see that happen." Peter said calmly.
Mike stopped pacing and looked down for a moment. He knew Peter was right. But why did things have to get so complicated all of the sudden. Sure they all had made sacrifices along the way. He was beginning to wonder if it was worth it. What if nothing ever came of this band? Everything would have been lost for nothing. He knew the other felt these same fears, yet they still gave whatever they had to offer. He smiled at this.
Peter and Micky were surprised to see the smile. They had expected Mike to blow like a time bomb, but he just stood there smiling coolly.
"You know! I have a good group of guys here!" he said, and walked off into his own room, still smiling.
Micky and Peter looked at each other for a moment. "Well, big Peter? What just happened here?" asked Micky.
"I think I know!" smiled Peter, and he went off into the kitchen to heat up his supper, leaving a confused Micky to figure things out.
After Micky had sold some of his things, the Monkees finally had enough money to get their equipment.
All four of them went down to the music store together to pick up what they had needed and paid the man in cash. No need to say how delighted they were when they went home with change.
After hooking up the equipment on their stage, they tried their version of "I'm A Believer" once again. When it was finished, they were all pleased with the results.
"But we need some more songs!" said Micky.
"Yeah, but where are we gonna get any? None of us are songwriters, are we?" asked Peter.
None of them had noticed that Mike disappeared out of the room for a moment. He came back out with four binders that held thick stacks of paper in them.
"What ya got there, Mike?" asked the ever curious Micky.
"Songs!" he replied, quietly.
"Songs?" asked Davy. "Where did you get them?"
"Well...um...I wrote them." he said with obvious discomfort.
"You wrote them? Since when could you write songs? I never knew you could write songs." asked Micky, anxiously peering into the binder that Mike had given him.
"Hey! This one looks pretty good." said Peter, pointing at one of the pages.
"Which one is that, Peter?" asked Davy.
"You Just May Be The One. Can we try that one Mike?" asked Peter, looking at him excitedly.
Mike set everyone up on who would sing what parts and where everyone would come in, and each one of them made notes on their pages.
"OK, ready?" Mike asked, to which they all nodded. "One, two, three, four."
"All men must have someone - have someone who would never take advantage of a love bright as the sun..." Mike sang as the other provided back up.
When they finished the song, Micky looked over at Mike. "How long have you been writing songs? How come I never knew about this?"
"I've been writing songs since I was like sixteen and you never knew because you never asked." Mike smiled.
"Remind me to ask you a lot of questions later on."
"What else you got in here, Mike?" asked Davy, fanning through the pages.
"Oh a little bit of this and a little bit of that." he replied simply. "Hey, Davy. That song that you sang at the old place, what was it?"
"I Wanna Be Free?"
"Yeah! That's it." Mike took off his guitar and handed it to Davy. "Here play it real quick. I wanna take some notes. We might be able to use it."
Davy took the guitar which confused Peter and Micky. "I thought you didn't know how to play any instruments." asked Peter.
"I only know how to play this one song on the guitar. That's all. Any other song is very choppy when I try to play." he laughed.
"Hey Mike," began Micky, "Maybe your first note should be to teach Davy how to play the guitar."
"What's wrong, don't you like my tambourine playing?" asked Davy, feigning insult.
"Don't listen to him, Davy. He's just afraid you'll upstage him, that's all." Mike laughed, which earned him a series of loud beats from Micky.
Davy went on to play and sing 'I Wanna Be Free.' When he finished, Mike was still doodling on his pad.
"You should definitely learn to play guitar, man! That was great!" smiled Peter.
Davy, smiling, handed the guitar back to Mike and said, "Thanks! But I think I'll just stick with the tambourine for right now. After all, somebody has to keep Micky in his place." he said, as Micky tossed one of his sticks at him.
The rest of the day they worked on the songs and arrangements. They felt they had plenty of songs to work a gig. Now the next step. Getting a gig.
The Monkees spent the next day going from club to club in hopes of getting an audition and maybe even a gig, if they were lucky.
They had arrived at a fairly new club called the Vincent Van Gogh Gogh. The place had only been open a few months, and was already the main hang out of the local teenage and young adult crowd.
"Think we'll make it here?" asked Peter, as they all walked inside.
"Well they haven't kicked us out yet. That's a good sign." said Micky.
"What are you doing here? The place isn't open for another two hours yet." came an elderly voice from down the hall. "You kids will have to wait until we're open."
"Um excuse me, sir?" began Mike. "We're a new group and uh we were wondering if we could audition for you?"
"No auditions today! I'm not looking for a new group!" came the old voice, sounding very weary.
"Uh well look, if you could just give us a chance..." began Micky.
"I said no!" replied the voice, firmly.
The boys turned to leave, but were almost run over by three men coming into the club. The men didn't even turn around to see if anyone was ok, they just kept right on walking.
The boys could hear arguing coming from the owner's office where the men had just went in, so they walked over near the door to listen in.
"Now look, Pops! If you don't sign this paper turning the club over to me, I can't be responsible for what may happen to you. My boys here are very rambunctious, and I sometimes have trouble keeping them under control."
And as if on cue, one of the men picked up a vase and threw it against the opposite wall, shattering it to pieces.
"I told you before, McCullem," said the elderly man known as Pops, shoving his finger in the taller man's face, "You ain't gonna get your filthy hands on this place."
The other man shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Now, Pops, don't you know it's not nice to point?" then he snapped his fingers and his other body guard came around and grabbed the old man's arm and twisted it behind his back, and pushed him down on the desk. When Pops let out a groan, McCullem looked at him and said "Awe, does it hurt, Pops? You know, I can call him off of you, but I'm not so sure he'll listen to me. Oh course, if you'll sign the paper..."
"Hey! Leave him alone!" shouted Peter, but he ducked behind Mike when McCullem glared at him.
"Well I see you need two goons to help you take care of a little old man." said Davy with a smirk on his face.
McCullem pointed at him, "Well I don't need them to take care of you, you little squirt!"
As McCullem approached Davy with his finger still pointing at him, Micky grabbed his arm and twisted behind his back, much in the same way that the goon held Pops. "Now, now! Don't you know it's not nice to point?" asked Micky, and Mike delivered a hard right to McCullem's chin, sending him to the floor.
"Get them!" McCullem yelled to his guards, and the man holding Pops let him go, and went after the Monkees.
As one of them approached Peter and Mike, Peter poked his fingers in the man's eyes and Mike took his guitar case and smacked the man over the head with it, sending him unconscious to the ground.
Peter and Mike shook hands, then looked to see if Micky and Davy needed any help, but from the looks of things, they were handling themselves just fine.
Davy was on the other man's back, with his arms wrapped around the man's throat, choking him. As the man struggled to get Davy off, Micky sent a hard blow to the man's face that knocked the man to the floor. Fortunately Davy jumped off of him in time to avoid being pinned underneath.
McCullem looked on in surprise and disgust as he watched his men fall, and then saw the four boys patting each other on the back. He reached for the gun inside of his coat, and aimed it towards the boys. He didn't care which one he hit, just as long as someone paid
for his humiliation. But just before he could fire, something hit his hand and sent the gun flying across the room with a loud clatter. He looked up to see Pops standing over him, with a cane in his hand.
"I think it's time for you and your watch dogs to leave, McCullem." he said.
He got up off the floor just as his men started coming around. He went to the door, slapping the imaginary dust off of his clothes, then spun around and said "You haven't heard the last of me, Pops." then looking at the Monkees, he added, "I'll be seeing you later." and he walked out the door.
"Boys! I don't know how to thank you!" said Pops, holding out his hand to shake.
"Well, you could let us audition for you." said Micky, with one of his goofy grins.
"Audition? Look boys, I don't care what you sound like, you have the job!" he smiled.
"Really?" asked Peter, as if he really couldn't believe this was happening.
"Yes! Really! The club is open from 7pm - 1am. Be here Friday by 6 so you have enough time to set up."
"Well thank you! Thank you very much!" said Mike as he and the others backed out of the office.
It was Friday night and the boys were setting up their equipment. They were all very nervous. Peter was chewing his nails, Davy ringing his hands, and Micky acting crazy...that is crazier than normal...to try and get his mind off of his nervousness. Mike was also nervous, but for their sake, he didn't let it show.
"I'm scared!" Peter finally blurted out.
"So am I!" agreed Micky, looking very nervous.
"What if we've fooled ourselves into thinking we sound good? We've never had an outside opinion. Pops didn't even listen to us. He only hired us cause we helped him out that one time." whined Davy.
"Guys! Now is no time to get cold feet. We're on in a few minutes. Now come on. We can do this."
"I don't think we've practiced enough!" said Peter.
"Pete, we've practiced till we were blue in the face. Come on man! You'll be fine!" Mike continued to try to calm his friends, even though he himself was just as worried as they were.
"OK, boys! you ready?" asked Pops as he came out of his office. He too was a little worried, since he really hadn't heard how these boys sound.
Davy and Micky shook their heads 'no' and Peter looked as if he was about to run, but Mike caught him by the collar and said "Yes, Pops. We're ready."
The boys went through the curtains that led to the stage and went behind their instruments. As Pops opened the club, the boys started playing the background to "Tomorrow's Gonna Be Another Day."
Pops no sooner got the doors opened then the kids filed to the dance floor and started dancing.
"I'm gonna pack up all the pain/
I'm gonna keep it in my heart/
I'm gonna catch me the fastest train/
I'm gonna make me a brand new start/
But that's OK/
Tomorrow's gonna be another /
Hey Hey Hey Hey/
And I don't care what ya say/
Cause tomorrow's gonna be/
Tomorrow's gonna be/
Tomorrow's gonna be another day-ay-ay/
Hey Hey Hey Hey"
Because of their nervousness, they started out pretty low and shaky, but when they saw the people actually liking them, they started to sing and play with all they had.
"Well I ain't gonna think about ya/
Cause it ain't no use no more/
I'm gonna make it fine without ya/
Just like I did before/
I'm on my way/
Tomorrow's gonna be another day/
Hey Hey Hey Hey/
And I don't care what ya say/
Cause tomorrow's gonna be/
Tomorrow's gonna be/
Tomorrow's gonna be another day-ay-ay/
Hey Hey Hey Hey"
When they had finished, the people began jumping up and down, cheering. Especially the girls. Even Pops in the back of the room was clapping and cheering for them. He didn't say anything before, but he was beginning to regret giving them the job without an audition. But now he knew he had nothing to worry about.
When they had their break, they had a chance to mingle with the crowd. Many people stopped them to tell them how well they were doing and ask them how long they had been playing. When they told the people that this was their first time to play for a crowd, their response was shocked looks all the way around.
Micky and Davy went back to the stage, with a few new phone numbers in their pockets. Mike had given out their number to people who wanted to book them for parties. Peter came back with a big grin. "Hey! Pops says that he'll book us for the rest of the month, if we'd like."
"How much is he going to pay us?" asked Micky.
"Who cares? Tell him we'll take it!" said Mike, excitedly.
"I already did." smiled Peter as he got back behind his keyboard, preparing to play.
They opened up with "Daydream Believer" and ended the evening, or morning as it was, with "Papa Gene's Blues."
The ride home was silent, each Monkee wrapped up in his own thoughts.
When they arrived back at the pad and had set all their things down, the silence was finally broken by Micky excitedly yelling "We did it!! We did it!!" and it didn't take long for the others, even the usually 'under-control' Mike, to get caught up in the excitement and start yelling, cheering and practically bouncing off the walls.
"Thank you!" Mike announced from the stage as the applause went on. It was their last night at the Vincent Van Gogh Gogh and business had picked up since their band had been there.
The boys had been booked for upcoming parties and were also to open in a few weeks at another club just down the street. Things had been going great for the Monkees, and they were pleased.
"Thank you very much!" Mike went on. "I'd like to thank you all for coming out here this evening. I'd have to say that this is the biggest crowd we've played for this month!" he smiled, and the people started cheering. It was true that this was the biggest crowd. Everyone knew that this was the Monkees last night at this club and they wanted to come out and show their support for the band. The guys had made many friends here and they would miss coming out here every night to perform.
"We'd also like to thank Pops back there," he pointed to Pops who shyly waved back, "for giving us our first chance out here on the stage. We'll never forget him. We'll never forget any of you. We have made many special friends here this past month and we're gonna miss coming here every night to perform for you."
"Perhaps you can talk Pops into having us back soon." grinned Micky, which earned them another round of cheers.
After the cheers and laughter had died down, Mike looked out into the crowd. "OK, well, we'd like to end the evening with our song, Good Clean Fun. We hope you enjoy it."
"There's a smile on the wind as it touches my face and starts to erase all the gloom..."
After the crowd had left, the boys started packing up. They had just finished packing their instruments and were getting ready to take them out to the car, when Pops walked up to them.
"Boys, you did a good job tonight." he said. "Micky, you know you boys are welcome to come back anytime you want."
"Awe gee thanks, Pops." Micky gave one of his goofy grins.
"Pops, what I said up there, I...we meant it." began Mike. "We really do thank you for giving us our first chance. If it wasn't for you,..."
"I only returned a favor boys." he grinned.
"Well, isn't that sweet." said a sarcastic voice over by the doors.
"McCullem! What are you doing here?" asked Pops.
McCullem had returned, just as promised, only with four thugs instead of two.
"We haven't finished discussing that little deal that I was talking about before." he smiled, then walked over to the Monkees. "May I be the first to congratulate you on your success." then he snapped his fingers and two of his men walked over with sledge hammers and started breaking all of the instruments.
"Hey! What are you doing?" Micky cried out, as he watched his drum set being flattened.
"McCullem, leave those boys alone. They have nothing to do with this little business between you and I." yelled Pops.
"I'm sorry, Pops, but I'm afraid they made themselves involved at our last meeting."
When Peter saw one of the men raise his sledge hammer to his keyboard, he ran over to stop him.
"Peter! NO!" was the last thing he heard as the man smacked him in the side of the head with the smaller end of the hammer.
"Peter!" Davy yelled, as he ran over to aid his friend, but was struck with a blow to his back that sent him breathlessly to the ground.
"I remember you!" said McCullem, glaring down at Davy. "You're the one with the smart mouth." and he sent his boot into Davy's ribs and was about to do it again but stopped suddenly when Mike yelled out, "Hey! Stop it!"
"And you!" he turned, looking at Mike. "You're the one who hit me." he said, rubbing his chin as if it were still sore. He snapped his fingers, and all at once, his men went into their positions. One man came up behind Micky, and held him for McCullem to take care of later. Two men came up and held Mike in place, as McCullem approached him. The fourth man, continued destroying everything in sight, while keeping his eyes on Peter and Davy's still forms.
McCullem sent a series of blows into Mike's face and mid-section, his ring sending jagged cuts into Mike's flesh.
Micky was struggling against the man holding him, trying to get loose and help Mike, but this guys grip was like iron.
But McCullem and his gang seemed so set on getting revenge on the Monkees, that no one noticed Pops sneaking away to phone the police.
After a few minutes, or what seemed more like hours to the Monkees, McCullem stopped his brutal attack on Mike. He ordered his men to let go, and Mike dropped to the ground in a bloodied and unconscious heap.
"Well it seems your friends will be out of commission for a while." McCullem said to a sobbing Micky as he pointed to Peter, then Davy and finally to Mike.
All Micky wanted now was to get out of this goon's grip and kill McCullem, even if it meant him getting killed in the process. But, no. This man wouldn't have the guts to fight someone unless they were being held back.
McCullem took out his gun and pointed it to Mike's still form. "Well, it looks as if you boys won't be making music anymore. Pity! But, as they say, all good things must come to an end, right?" he smirked and then cocked the gun.
"No!" cried Micky. Just then the doors burst open. "Police! Hold it right there!"
McCullem looked up in shock and then dropped his gun and raised his hands. The other four dropped what they were doing and raised their hands as well, with looks of fear and anger on their faces.
As soon as the Micky was turned loose he ran over to McCullem and hit him as hard as he could right across the face. He jumped on top of McCullem and started strangling him with his bare hands. A couple of the policemen pulled him off and then pulled McCullem to his feet and rushed him and his men out the door before Micky decided to attack again.
Davy was just coming around and crawled over to Peter. "Peter? Peter? Are you ok? Wake up." he shook him gently and the blonde's eyes slowly opened.
"What the..?" asked Peter as he slowly sat up, holding his head.
"Peter, are you all right?" Davy asked again.
"Yeah! I think so. My head hurts, but I...Oh my God!" he said rushing over to where Micky was kneeling over Mike. Davy was close behind him. He hadn't noticed Mike until Peter rushed over.
Davy stopped abruptly and put his hand over his gaping mouth to stifle the cry that was threatening to come out. Mike lay there, unmoving, bruised and had blood pouring from deep cuts. His blood was splattered all over the ground and on the side of the stage.
"Oh no! Not again! Please, God! Not again!" Davy cried as he grabbed Mike's hand and held it to his chest.
The waiting room at the hospital was quiet as Micky, Davy and Peter were wrapped up in their own thoughts.
Micky sat in the corner of one of the couches, clutching Mike's wool hat that he had held on to since the attack. It was still splattered with his blood and Micky would wince as he remembered every blow that Mike took.
Davy sat in the corner of the other couch with his arms wrapped around himself. It was all happening again. Oh, how he hated hospitals. He had spent too much time in waiting rooms. And now he had a sense of deja vu as he sat here. Another person that he had gotten close to would bite the dust.
Peter was pacing back and forth. He didn't see the attack as Micky had, but when he saw Mike's bloodied form, he was glad he didn't have to watch. "Poor Micky. What he must be going through." he thought to himself.
Peter walked over to Micky and sat beside him on the couch.
"Don't worry, Micky. He'll be ok." he said, putting his arm around Micky.
Micky shuddered as he began crying again. "Oh, Peter, it was terrible. He just kept hitting and hitting. And I couldn't do anything. Mike was being hurt, and all I could do was just watch."
"Micky, it ain't your fault, buddy. You couldn't help the fact that you were being held back." Peter tried to soothe his friend.
"I did try! I tried to get away, but he held on so tight. And when the police came in, he let me go, and I went up to McCullem and tried to kill him. I had his throat in my hands and I was squeezing for all it was worth." he reached out his hands as if he were doing it
again. "I almost killed him."
Peter was shocked. He didn't know about any of this. When he woke up, McCullem and his gang were already out of the building and Micky was with Mike. He couldn't believe that Micky, their Micky, could kill anyone. But then, what would he have done if he had seen what Micky had seen. He just held Micky close as he wept and kept saying "It's ok, Mick. Everything will be ok."
After a while Micky did finally calm down and gave Peter a weak smile. "Thanks Pete."
Peter just smiled at him. Now he had to go and see how Davy was doing.
He walked over to the couch that Davy was on and sat next to him, much in the same way he did with Micky.
"Hey Davy, how ya doing?" he asked with a slight smile.
Davy only nodded but didn't look at Peter.
"Davy, back at the club, you said 'not again.' What did you mean by that?" this had been bothering Peter since Davy had uttered those words, but he wasn't sure if he should nose into Davy's life.
Davy just shook his head and stared down at the floor. "When I was ten, my grandmother died of a sudden heart-attack. She wasn't all that old, so we weren't expecting anything like that to happen. She was rushed to the hospital, but she didn't make it. Then when I was sixteen, my parents were in a an accident. My father died instantly, my mother was brought to the hospital. She died the next day. John, my best friend, decided to take his life a few years later. He over-dosed on some pills."
He paused for a minute, trying to figure out if he should tell the whole story. He continued, "After that, I tried to take my own life. I had the razor in hand and I was about to slice my wrist, when my grandfather walked into the room and caught me. He told me that I was the only one he had left and that if he lost me, there wouldn't be any reason for him to go on. Needless to say, after that, I didn't try anything stupid. He thought it would be a good idea for me to get away for awhile, so he sent me here." he sighed and Peter could have sworn he saw tears in his eyes. Davy continued, "Everyone I get close to, they die. Whose next? You? Micky?" and he started crying.
"Davy, don't worry. Everything will be ok." Peter tried to calm him, but Davy just shook his head, jumped up off the couch and shouted. "NO!" Micky looked up now. He hadn't been paying attention to Davy and Peter, but now Davy had caught his attention.
"He's not going to be ok! Come off it, Peter." Davy was still yelling, throwing his arms up in the air. "You heard what the doctor said. Multiple concussions, contusion, broken ribs, one of them pierced his lung, and internal bleeding. Even the doctor doesn't hold out much hope that he's going to make it through the surgery."
"No! You come off it!" now Peter was yelling. Micky looked on in shock. Peter never yelled. He was always the calm one. The one who would try to make peace between everyone. "You can't give up on Mike that way. Where would you be right now if he had given up on you back in that alley?"
Davy just turned away from Peter, not willing to listen to anymore. He knew Peter was right. But he had gotten his hopes up so many times before, only to have them crushed. He didn't think he could bare to lose someone else.
Peter grabbed Davy by the shoulder and turned him to face him. Speaking with force, he said "Mike's gonna need us now more than he ever has before. You're not doing him any good sitting here just waiting for him to die." He dropped his hands from Davy's shoulders and went to sit back down.
Davy just stood there, looking towards the ground. Peter was right. He needed to start thinking positive thoughts on Mike's outcome. "Mike will make it. He has to." he said to himself. He sat in the closest chair and buried his head in his hands. "God, I haven't talked to you in quite some time. But Mike's in trouble, and he needs your help. You got to bring him through this, please. I'll do anything. Please make him all right."
The doctor had come back and told the three Monkees and Pops, who now joined them, that Mike had made it through the surgery. It was still only a 50/50 chance that he would ever wake up.
The next couple of days were touch and go. The boys were intent on staying until Mike woke up, but Pops encouraged them to go back to the pad long enough to get some decent food, shower and rest. He would notify them if there was any change. But neither one of them felt like eating and they were too worried to rest, so they would always end up back in the waiting room or by Mike's bedside waiting for him to wake up.
Two days after the surgery, the three boys were dozing by Mike's bedside, when he slowly awoke.
At first he was very confused. "Where am I?" he thought to himself. Then he realized he was in a hospital. But why? Why was he here? Why did he hurt so much? What had happened?
He was about to awaken one of the guys to find out, but Micky was already up.
"Hey! He's awake! Davy, Peter, he's awake!" he was shouting, which made Mike's head hurt even worse.
Davy and Peter were quickly at his side.
"How do you feel?" asked Peter.
"Terrible. What happened?" Mike asked weakly.
The guys looked at each other in confusion and then back to Mike.
"Well, that McCullem beat you. Don't you remember?" asked Davy, but his question was answered by the fire in Mike's eyes. He remembered all too well.
"I'll kill him." Mike growled.
"You don't have to worry about that now, Mike," Micky said. "He and his boys are going to be put away for a very long time for attempted man-slaughter along with a few other charges that should keep the defense attorney busy for a while."
Mike seemed to ease up at this bit of news. "How long have I been here?"
"Almost three days now. We were worried Mike. You almost didn't make it." answered Peter.
"But you're going to be ok now." said Davy, more to himself than to Mike. It was just hitting him, Mike is going to be ok. He's not going to die.
"Well I'd better go get the doctor and tell him you're awake." said Micky, who was reluctant to leave his friend, but also wanting the doctor to check him out before he fell back to sleep.
It was three weeks before Mike was finally told he could go home, provided he'd still take it easy for the next few weeks. He would have ran right out to the car in his hospital gown, if Peter hadn't pushed him into the bathroom and threw his clothes in after him.
When he walked out, the guys were waiting for him, all looking as if they were up to something. They all had big grins on their faces, and Peter was holding something behind his back.
"OK. What are you guys up to?" Mike asked, giving them all a suspicious eye.
"Well we wanted to give ya something." said Micky, who wasn't able to keep the excitement out of his voice.
"Go ahead, Peter, show him." said Davy.
Grinning, Peter pulled his hand from behind his back, and held in it a green wool hat, looking very much like the one Mike wore.
"Your other one was ruined, so we all chipped in and bought you this one." said Peter.
Mike didn't know what to say. It was such a simple gift, but it was one that meant so much to him.
"Um, guys, I just don't know...how to, uh...to thank you. This is the best gift that I've..." now he was near tears, and becoming very uncomfortable.
Micky sensed this and quickly blurted out "Group hug!!" and he pulled the other guys together in a huge embrace.
"Hey! Hey!" yelled Davy, who had somehow gotten stuck in the middle. "Little guy needs air!" and they all laughed as they backed off, watching Davy try to fan air back into his lungs.
Weeks later, everything was back to normal at the pad. Well, Monkee normal, anyway. The boys were able to go out and buy new instruments with the money they had made working at the Vincent Van Gogh Gogh and various parties in between, so rehearsals were still being held on schedule.
Mike was sitting on the sofa reading a magazine, Davy practicing the guitar, and Micky and Peter were out surfing, when the door bell rang.
Davy got up to answer it, and Mike called out after him, "If that's one of your girlfriends, remember we have rehearsal in a couple of hours."
Davy rolled his eyes and said "Yes, Papa Nez!" as they had now christened him.
But when he opened the door, it wasn't a girl standing there. It was Pops. They had gotten used to the old man stopping by to check up on them and have a visit.
"How's our patient today?" he asked.
"Ornery as ever." Davy answered to which Mike called out "I heard that!"
"Well Mike, how do you feel?" asked Pops, as he came inside.
"Didn't Davy just tell you? Ornery." he replied, glaring at Davy.
"Oh.. uum...I think I'll...uuhh ...go tell Micky and Peter that you're here, Pops." said Davy as he rushed out of Mike's glare.
"So? Did you tell him yet?" Pops asked as soon as Davy was outside.
"You know I wouldn't do that without you here, Pops. After all, you helped us with the surprise." Mike smiled.
"Oh good! After you told me that story, I just had to come and see his reaction." Pops beamed.
Davy came back in with a soaking Peter and Micky right behind him.
"Hey, Pops!" they greeted.
"Hello, boys!" he smiled. He had grown quite fond of these four over the past month. They were more like sons to him, than just acquaintances.
"Guys, you're dripping all over the floor." Mike pointed to the large puddle forming under the two.
They both smiled sheepishly at Mike and then grabbed their towels and started drying off.
"Davy, I was just telling Pops about that new song I wrote, but I think I left it in your room. Would you mind getting it?" Mike asked, and Micky and Peter both smiled at each other as they realized what
Mike was up to.
"Why would it be in my room, Mike? You left it up here on the stand where we keep all the music." said Davy as he went to the stage to get it and gave it to Mike.
"Thanks." Mike said, but he didn't really seem all that thankful.
"Uh, Davy!" began Micky, "I've been looking all over for my Frisbee, but can't find it anywhere. Could you go look in your room real quick to see if it's there?"
"Sure!" Davy said, heading to his room. The guys all looked at each other and smiled, until Davy stopped and snapped his fingers. "No! Wait, I saw it here in the hall closet just the other day." He opened the closet door and rummaged in there for a few seconds, all the while the guys were looking very annoyed. "Here it is!" said Davy, bringing the yellow Frisbee to Micky.
"Oh great! Thanks, babe!" said Micky, looking defeated.
All of the sudden Peter grabbed his head. "Ow!" he cringed.
"What's wrong, Peter?" Davy asked.
"I have a headache. Would you go into my nightstand and get the aspirin?" asked Peter, rubbing his head.
"We have some right here in the kitchen." Davy started for the kitchen but froze when Peter yelled, "No! The uuhh...stuff in my nightstand is...uum....heavy duty aspirin."
"Oh, ok sure. I'll be right back." Davy said as he rushed to his and Peter's room.
"Pete, you're a genius." said Micky patting him on the back. Peter gave them a dimpled grin and, like the others, waited for Davy's response from the other room. They weren't disappointed.
"AAAAHHHH" came Davy's voice and he came running out of his and Peter's room.
"My...my ring. It was here...on my bed." he stammered.
Micky doubled over in laughter at the expression on Davy's face. It was a mixture of shock, surprise, and joy...all rolled into one.
"Ah, God! I love you guys!!" yelled Davy in tears as he ran over and gave Mike a big hug to which Mike just said, "Ok! Ok! Shotgun. Enough of that!" but Davy wasn't listening. He just as quickly hugged Pops and then ran over and tackled both Peter and Micky, who were laughing uncontrollably at this point.
This small group of guys had only known each other a little over two months, but despite all of their differences, you couldn't find a closer circle of friends.
THE END
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