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PART I
It was morning. The sun had just crept over the horizon, shining a blinding light through the bay window of the Monkees' Pad.
"See, now this is why I sleep in," Micky whined, covering his head with one of the couch pillows.
"Aw, Mick. It's a beautiful day. Appreciate it," Peter said from his place by the sink. It was his turn to do the breakfast dishes.
"I'll appreciate it at noon," Micky replied.
Mike smirked at the expense of his curly-haired friend while he watched him complain from the bandstand. As soon as he had finished eating, he had excused himself from the table to continue playing a new song he had written. It was his plan to take the four of them through the entire thing to see if it worked. If so, he was looking forward to playing it that night at their next gig.
"See you later, fellas!"
The British voice that had said this caused Mike to bring his head up, watching as Davy prepared to leave.
"Hey, where you going?" Mike asked.
"I've got a date," Davy replied as if he was stating the obvious.
"At 9:00 in the morning?" Mike countered, frowning at the shorter man.
"Sure. We're meeting at the park to have a picnic. For lunch."
"Again, I ask. At 9:00 in the morning? You just ate breakfast."
"Well, we don't plan on eating right away. If you know what I mean," Davy teased, giving Mike a quick wink before opening the door.
"Hang on a second. Don't forget, we have a gig tonight. Be home by 2:00 so we can practice," Mike reminded him, knowing full well Davy didn't plan on remembering.
"Sure, OK. I'll be there. 3:00."
"2:00!" Mike yelled to the closed door. He sighed, removing the guitar from his lap.
Unfortunately, Davy hadn't heard Mike's final reminder. He had swiped the car keys from the kitchen without anyone noticing so he wouldn't have to walk. As he approached the car, he saw Mr. Babbit and a man much younger than him, but older than Davy, walking to the car parked next to theirs.
"G'morning, Mr. Babbit," Davy greeted him with a smile. Mr. Babbit ignored him, continuing conversation with the other man. Shrugging, Davy climbed into the car, pulling away from them.
"Well, what do you think, Mr. Carlson?" Mr. Babbit asked. The man called Mr. Carlson looked back up at the place, nodding as he did so.
"Very nice and spacious. The rent isn't that bad at all either. I could manage to pay it on time."
"I wish some of my other tenants could say the same," Mr. Babbit muttered to himself. "But, that's great! I'll get the papers and you can move in whenever you're ready."
"All right," Mr. Carlson said. As Mr. Babbit disappeared, the silence was replaced with faint music playing. Mr. Carlson glanced around, looking for the source. He was still puzzled when Mr. Babbit returned.
"Here we are. Sign here." Mr. Babbit pointed to the sheet, handing him the pen. Mr. Carlson took it, pausing before he signed.
"Where is that music coming from?"
Mr. Babbit's smile was pushed away to a look of alarm. He was determined to not let The Monkees drive away another new tenant. "Oh, that. That's just the radio playing. I can get that turned down right away for you."
"Just a radio? Well, you don't have to turn it down. I enjoy it, really," Mr. Carlson proceeded in signing the papers, causing Mr. Babbit's smile to return.
"Actually, that's not the radio. Four tenants of mine are in a band. That's them playing right now," he said with phony pride. If this man liked the music, he'd pretend to like it too.
"A band? Great!"
Notes: I forgot to mention this when I posted the first part. That one was just kind of an introduction, prologue, whatever you'd like to call it. This is really where the story begins.
PART II
"They call themselves The Monkees."
"Carlson, you're losing it."
Mr. Jay Carlson looked down at the table in disappointment. He was having dinner with his business partner, Eric Douglas at the local hot spot of Malibu, California. The place was relatively dark with posters crowding the walls. Jay had picked this particular club, hearing The Monkees would be playing there that night.
"But Eric, you don't understand. I have a feeling these boys would sign with us if we offered it to them. No one that possesses any talent has accepted our offers because they have others waiting. This band is local. We are the first ones to get to them," Jay explained.
"What makes you so sure they'd sign with us?" Eric asked. "You've never even met them. Don't even know what they look like. You heard them playing from far away so you really don't even have an idea of what they sound like."
"They're a band. The least you could do is listen to them. We're losing money, Eric."
Before Eric could give another opinion, The Monkees made their way to the stage, picking up their instruments. The leader of the band introduced them before they broke into their first song.
Regardless of Eric's rejection, Jay still turned his head anxiously towards the stage. The Monkees were just as talented as he imagined. All four of them seemed very capable in the music business and appeared to love playing and being in front of an audience.
After the song ended, Eric shifted in his chair, turning to Jay with his eyebrows raised. "I think you may have something here, Jay."
"You see, I told you they had talent," Jay said.
"Don't get ahead of yourself. They have potential talent. With a little work, I'm sure we can get The Monkees a profitable career. The music's good, the girls seem to like them. I think we can give it a shot," Eric agreed.
"Excellent." Jay nodded, sporting a wide grin. The two of them hadn't worked with an artist for ages. The whole thought of managing a band excited him greatly. He watched the rest of their set in pure enjoyment.
Once The Monkees exited the stage and took a seat at a table, it was Jay who went over to them to make them the offer. He approached them, still smiling from moments before. He stopped next to them, placing a hand on the shoulder of the one who was closest to him.
"You boys sounded great," Jay began. There were smiles of satisfaction and mutters of thank you's all around the table. They were pleased that someone other than a young girl had enjoyed them. "Excuse me for not introducing myself. My name's Jay Carlson."
The one whose shoulder was beneath his touch stood up, extending his hand. "Mike Nesmith."
Jay accepted the hand shake. "Let me ask you something, do you have a manager?"
"A manager?" Mike exchanged glances with his bandmates in surprise before turning back to Jay. "No, sir."
"Well, my partner, Eric Douglas," Jay pointed to Eric who was watching them from their table,"and I manage up and coming stars like yourselves. Are you interested?"
"Umm, well..." Mike looked back down at his friends realizing he shouldn't make any decisions for them. "I think we'd better think about it. Is that alright?"
"Oh sure. Talk it over. Take your time. I just moved in below you so you can come by any time to let me know what you've decided," Jay said.
"OK. You just moved in below us?" Mike asked.
"Yes. I overheard you practicing this morning and I knew I had to come and check you out myself. I have to be going now, but please don't hesitate to come over or call if you have any questions."
"Definitely, thank you."
Jay nodded in a way that said 'You're welcome', before returning to Eric, who was getting ready to leave.
"Well?" Eric asked.
"They're going to think about it and tell me when they've decided," Jay explained. He pushed his and Eric's chairs in as they headed for the door.
"Perfect."
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Mike positioned his pillow on top of his head, hoping to drown out the sound of Micky rolling around in the bed next to him. When his efforts failed, he angrily threw the pillow off. He reached for the nightstand, turning on the lamp. Micky sat up, squinting.
"What'd you do that for?" Micky asked.
"Because you won't sit still. Your bed squeaks and every time you move around, I hear it squeaking. Stop moving and go to sleep," Mike said.
"I can't help it. I'm too excited to sleep! Mike, we're gonna be famous!" Micky flopped around in his bed some more, turning to fully face Mike.
"You don't know that. We haven't made any decisions."
"Oh, c'mon. Don't tell me you actually plan on turning them down! This chance only comes along once in a lifetime. We could be stars," Micky persisted. Mike sat up, running a hand tiredly through his hair.
"Look, you don't know how I feel about it. You don't know how Davy or
Peter feel about it. Don't look ahead, assuming we're going to be famous. Don't get your hopes up."
"I would know if you would have let us discuss it."
"We've had a long night. The guy didn't say we had to decide by morning. We'll talk about it tomorrow when we're all more awake. With the exception of you if you don't get some sleep."
"I told you. I can't help it," Micky repeated. "I'm too excited not to think about it. Can't we talk about it now? I'm sure Peter and Davy aren't asleep yet. They're probably excited too."
"Micky, please. I really just want to sleep right now."
Micky pleaded with him, and Mike eventually gave in. Not completely, of course.
"Fine. You go downstairs, and the three of you can talk about it. I don't want any part of it. You decide something and I'll tell you my opinion tomorrow."
"Sure thing, Mike." Micky jumped out of bed, racing towards the door. He paused turning around. "It would take you like two seconds to say whether you wanted to do this or not. Why not just tell me now before I go down?"
"Because you won't just accept my answer. You'll have to talk to me about it. I really just want to sleep."
"You don't want to do this, do you?" Micky crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door.
"Micky!"
"You don't, do you?"
"What makes you say that?"
"If you did want to do it, you wouldn't be berating me for being so excited about it. You'd be excited too. You wouldn't doubt that we'll be famous and you wouldn't tell me not to get my hopes up." Mike looked at Micky in disbelief. "I notice these things."
"Even if I didn't, and I've not said a word so stop assuming, even if I didn't, it's my decision too. You can't influence me, Mick."
"Yeah, and I understand that, but you've been wanting success with this band ever since it began. I don't understand why you're not jumping at the chance."
"I'm not jumping at the chance because I don't have my head in the clouds like you do. I'd like to get to know these two guys before I sign anything. The future of our band is as stake. I want to be sure that we can trust them. Someone has to be, and it's not going to be you."
"OK, fine. So you admit that you have not yet made a decision? You're undecided."
"Exactly. I'm undecided. Now good night." Mike lied down in bed, pulling his blanket back up over his body. As he reached to turn the lamp off, Micky came back to his bed. "I thought you were going to talk with Peter and Davy."
"I can wait until morning. We should get some rest," Micky said with very little energy.
"Now what did I do?"
"What are you talking about?" Micky pulled his covers up in the same manner as Mike, and situated the pillow beneath his head.
"Nevermind. Good night."
"You said that already," Micky pointed out with a smirk on his face.
"Well, good night again." Satisfied, Mike flipped off the lamp and turned over to go to sleep.
PART III
Mike took another drink of his coffee before placing it back on the table in front of him. He peered down harder at the contract in front of him, while Jay Carlson paced around him.
"Well?" Jay asked, expectantly. He was coming off a lot more deseparate than he'd intended, but Mike had been silent for nearly ten minutes.
"Now hold on. I want to read this carefully before I decide to sign anything. My mind doesn't function as well at 4:30 in the morning," Mike explained, putting a hand to his head.
"You're lucky I'm a night person. Otherwise, I'd kill you for waking me up this early. Without warning neither. Just came knocking at my door..."
"Shh! You want me to make decisions, but yet you won't shut up."
"Hey, now. No need to get snappy. Why did you come over this early anyway?"
"Because I knew I wouldn't be able to think clearly and make the right choice with the three stooges breathing down my neck. I'm the most level headed of them. They don't know what they're getting into."
"So, what. You're saying they're...stupid?"
"No! Heavens no! It's just that right now, they're star struck. Especially Micky. I have to handle things myself. But uh...I guess I'm pretty much done reading. Can you tell me anything about what will happen if we do sign?"
"Well, for starters we're going to get you out of this small little town. Move out to the center of LA to get things started. Record some demos. That kind of thing. Eventually, once you get a decent fanbase, we'll probably ship you off to New York to do some promotions."
"New York? Gee, man. I dunno."
"What do you mean, you don't know? What's wrong with New York?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Carlson. It's just, I know my friends. They love living here. If anything, we'd like to stay here."
"You expect to have a successful career staying here? It's not possible, Mike. We've got a lot of great things arranged for you boys."
"When Micky joined the band, it was because he quit the one he was in since they were moving to find better work. He likes living here. So do Davy and Peter."
"What about you?"
Mike shrugged, "I dunno. I mean, this is for our career. But for them, it's a little iffy."
"Well, it's up to you. You're the one who makes the final decision. You are the leader, right?"
"Yeah, I guess. I'll talk it over with them. We'll probably be by later this afternoon to let you know," Mike assured him. He stood up, pushing his chair under the table.
"Eric will probably be here later as well and we can discuss this. We don't want you rushing into anything, but I promise you. All things ahead for you are good."
"We'll see about that," Mike half-joked. "Thanks again for giving us this opportunity."
"You deserve it, Mike. I'll talk to you in a little while."
Mike nodded in agreement and stepped out of the apartment, letting the door shut behind him. He walked upstairs, pulling out his keys to let himself back into the Pad. As soon as he opened up the door, a lamp was turned on and three angry faces were staring at him.
"Where have you been, Michael?" Davy asked in mock innocence. Micky
smiled at Davy and then turned back towards Mike before speaking.
"Taking a midnight stroll, are we?"
Peter frowned, meeting Micky's eyes. The two of them were seated on the couch next to each other. "It's not midnight."
Micky closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Anyway, where were you?"
"You mean, you don't know?" Mike asked, a smile playing on his lips.
"Well, I haven't the faintest idea. Do you Pete?" Micky turned to look at Peter.
"Nope, me neither. Davy?" Peter then turned to look at Davy.
"Not a clue."
The three of them then simultaneously turned their heads back to look at Mike.
"OK, fine. If you must know, I was taking a walk and I bumped into this really good looking chick. We started talking and then she invited me back to her place. We started watching this movie that was on TV on her couch, but about halfway through the beginning, she started kissing me. So I kissed her back and we made hot love to each other in her living room. After she fell asleep, I left and here I am," Mike said grinning.
Davy stared at him with wide eyes, smiling uncontrollably. "Really?"
"No!" Mike shouted, a scowl replacing the smile. "What do you take me for? I'm not you."
"Hey!" Davy yelled in objection, but he was left ignored as Micky pushed himself off the couch. He approached Mike.
"OK, we can take a hint. We know you went down to talk to Mr. Carlson. So fill us in. Give us details," Micky pushed.
"We just talked about the kinds of things we'd be doing if we signed. I read over the contract and I told him I'd talk it over with you guys," Mike explained.
"What 'kinds of things' will we be doing if we sign?" Davy asked.
"He said the first thing we'd do is move out to the center of LA. And then if things go well there, we'll move to New York."
"New York?" Micky's eyes widened and his mouth dropped. He turned to Davy and the two of them embraced each other, screaming at the top of their lungs. Peter stayed unnoticibly quiet.
"Wait a minute. You guys are happy about this?" Mike frowned at them. He had expected them to be near tears.
"Of course we're happy! New York! We get to live in New York!" Micky let out another yelp of happiness.
Their celebration was interrupted by a pounding on the door. Mike was closest to it, so he reached over and opened it up. Mr. Babbit stomped in, still in his night clothes.
"What's going on here? It's nearly five o'clock in the morning!" he growled.
"Hey, Mr. B, guess what! We're moving to New York!" Micky shouted, placing his hands on their landlord's shoulders and jumping up and down.
"You...you're moving?" Mr. Babbit questioned as if in shock. He quickly recovered, though and began jumping up and down as well. "Well, what are you just sitting around for? Let's celebrate! You're moving out!"
A miniature party started to form; the neighbor's overheard the racket and came in to complain, but soon joined in on the fun. Mike walked around quickly, trying to explain to everyone that things were not final and get some sense into Davy and especially Micky.
Peter, on the other hand, went back to the bedroom to sleep, hoping to get away from the festivities.
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