”The nights are cold and the days are hot
That doesn't seem too strange but I think your not quite here
Everything's new and a little bit wild
You've become my dream
Oh child, if you only knew
What I could do for you

If I ever needed someone like you
It's now
If I ever wanted a new chance at the game
It's now
If I ever tried to forget my past,
You'd make me see that this is at last the time
To be here now

Everyday when I look in your eyes
I see what could be and magnify the chance
That you would look my way
But I know that you're in love with him
And there's just no way you'd love a guy like me
Even down on his knees

If I ever needed someone like you
It's now
If I ever wanted a new chance at the game
It's now
If I ever tried to forget my past
You'd make me see that this is at last the time
To be here now
Oh, girl can't you see
When you look at me
That I want to be so much more than a friend
I can tell you're trying to look away
But it's like turning down the music
To drown out the song
If I ever needed someone like you
It's now
If I ever wanted a chance at the game
It's now
If I ever tried to forget my past
You'd make me see that this is at last the time
To be here now
To be here now
To be here now…”

Micky's voice drifted off into the crisp, cool air of Adriana's basement as she sat on an old sofa watching the guys practice. "Be Here Now" was one of the guys' first new songs and she had to admit that they did a great job on it.

She had been skeptical at first, wondering what they could create that wouldn’t end up being a Monkees song, but they far surpassed anything she expected. Just like the “real” Monkees, music seemed to just flow out of them, and Adriana couldn’t have felt more honored or excited to be a part of it all.

They had been so happy when they ran upstairs earlier that day and asked Adriana to come down and listen to what they had been working on. In only three weeks they had come up with ten new songs and even more that were just in their early stages. They apparently had all collaborated to write the songs, but according to Michael, they took some time on their own and each wrote one of the ten songs by themselves.

"Wow," Adriana breathed, "that was incredible. Who wrote that one?"

"M…" Mike started off.

"Uh," Micky interrupted, laughing nervously, "we all did."

Mike turned and gave Micky a strange look.

"Man, Micky, no we didn't," Peter argued, "that was..."

"That was ours," Micky said, giving Peter a "look" and putting particular emphasis on "ours".

"Whateva," Davy said shrugging and placing his maracas down on a stool next to the keyboard stand.

Adriana had managed to pull off a makeshift studio for the guys in the basement. Link had made a few phone calls, and with the promise of being the first to hear this "great, new band", his friend Bobby was able to convince his father to loan the Monkees some equipment.

The Monkees, of course, couldn’t be “The Monkees”, since there already were Monkees in the year 2000. A week or so earlier, the guys and Adriana had sat around thinking of a new name for the group.

"How 'bout the Rusted Cattle," Mike suggested.

"Nah," Micky said, tossing a drumstick in the air and catching it as the thought, "sounds too country."

"Hey," Mike said defensively.

"How about the Penny Whistles," suggested Peter, strumming his bass.

Adriana couldn't help but roll her eyes. When Peter saw her, he looked down sadly, still strumming his bass.

"I'm sorry Peter," she said, feeling awful for hurting his feelings, "but maybe we could think of something a little bit more, I don't know, aggressive?"

" 'ow about Davy and the All Star Band, eh," Davy suggested.

"No way, man," Mike said, shaking his head, " 'cause pretty soon we'd be known as 'Davy and the Rest of the Guys that Nobody Notices'"

"I've got it," Micky said, clapping his hands. "How about 'Flock of Seagulls'!"

"Ugh," Adriana groaned, "it's been done."

"Really," Micky asked.

"Yeah, and badly," Adriana answered. "Besides, you guys don't have the hair."

"Well," Adriana continued, "Whoever wrote it, I think it's great. Definitely one of the best."

"Um," said Mike, strumming his guitar a bit, "thanks…I think."

"I really hate to break up the party, but I gotta go get ready for work," she said, looking at her watch. "I'll see you guys later," she continued, getting up from the sofa and making her way to the stairs.

"Don't go changin' to try and please me," Micky shouted after her.

"Micky," she asked, turning around, "have you discovered my Billy Joel CDs?"

"Yeah," he grinned sheepishly, "his music’s kinda, I don’t know, kinda smooth and groovy, ya know."

"What's your favorite," Adriana asked curiously.

"Hmm," Micky thought, "so far I would have to say, 'We Didn't Start the Fire'"

"Cool," Adriana said. "Mine's 'Lullaby'. I love the piano work on that song. I remember hearing it for the first time at a choir contest when I was in junior high."

“I don’t think I’ve heard that one yet,” Micky answered.

Adriana leaned back against the stair rail, remembering. "I thought it was one of the most beautiful songs I'd ever heard, but I love 'We Didn't Start the Fire' too. I remember hearing that when I was about eight years old. My brother was going into the Navy and he gave me this cute little stuffed whale I called 'Shamoo'. When he left I carried that thing with me everywhere. I used to sing that song to Shamoo. One day, when my mom and I were on vacation, I left Shamoo at the hotel and we couldn't go back and get it. I cried for hours. My brother was like, my only friend when I was little, after my parents split up. Loosing Shamoo was like loosing my brother for a little while. It’s amazing how much kids can put into material things like that. I don’t have too many things from my childhood, but I know I would have held on to that darn whale! But, my brother did find out about it and wrote me a letter, pretending to be Shamoo, telling me that he’d been found by a hotel maid and was living with her nice children. ”

Suddenly Adriana stopped to see all of the Monkees looking at her. Her face reddened as she looked at each of the guys, who looked at her expectantly.

"What am I doing standing her rambling on and on," she asked, embarrassed that she gone on so long, "I've gotta get to work!"

Adriana turned and ran up the stairs.

One cool, early November afternoon, the guys sat around the living room, chatting while Adriana was at work. They already had a song list of over twenty and decided that was enough to make a sufficient demo whenever they headed off to Chicago.

"I don't think I've had a more creative period in my life," Mike said, as he sat on a reclining chair.

"Me neither," Peter said, sitting Indian style on the floor, staring out onto the deck.

"Peter," Mike asked cautiously, "you're really hung up on Adrian, aren't you buddy?"

"Yeah," he said, turning to face Mike, "but, man, every time I get up the nerve to tell her how I feel, she gets this weird look on her face and bolts."

"You mean she just runs out on you," Micky asked.

"No," Peter said, fingering a string of beads around his neck, "but I can tell she's not there. She's doesn't actually leave, but whenever I think she's about to get close and I want to tell her, it's like her thoughts are somewhere else."

"Well," Davy began while he sat, filing his nails, "did you eva think that maybe she digs someone else?"

"Like who," Peter asked, setting his chin on the palm of his hand.

"I don't know," Micky contributed, gazing at the ceiling "maybe someone she works with?"

"I hope not," Peter said, sadly. "For awhile, I actually thought that she might like me. She told me while I was here the first time that she liked me, but now, I'm not so sure."

"Peter," Mike began softly, "you've got to tell her how you feel. Sometimes girls need to know what you feel in order to be sure about what they feel. You need to find a way to let her know. It's the only way that she can really know."

"But what if she rejects me," Peter asked quietly.

"At least you'll know," Micky said.

The room grew quiet, as each Monkee sat with their own thoughts. The only sounds were the wind blowing the dry, dead leaves across the lawn, and Davy's emery board going back and forth, and back and forth.

While Peter wrestled with exactly how he should tell Adriana about his feelings for her, another Monkee in that same room wondered if he would ever have the chance.

The next day, it was more of the same for the guys as they tried to think of something to do to pass the day.

"Oh, man," Davy said, tossing his emery board across the room. "I've had it!"

"What's wrong, Davy," Micky asked, tossing a small rubber ball against a wall, "break another nail?"

"Ha ha," Davy continued, "I'm tired of being 'ere. I've got to get out. I'm gonna go crazy."

"Davy," Peter warned, "you know we're not supposed to leave until Adriana gets home."

"I don't care," Davy said, making his way towards the door. "We've written all the music we can, we've talked about nearly everything, I've filed my nails until there's nearly nothing left. I'm gonna go crackers if I don't get out of here!"

"Davy," Mike, said, running after him, "don't you go leaving and getting yourself into trouble."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of meself, Michael," said Davy, opening the door and letting himself out.

"Davy," Mike called after him.

It was too late. Davy had made up his mind. He took off down the street in search of… something.

"You have one phone call Mr. Jones," the police officer said. "I suggest you use it wisely."

Davy trudged over to the phone on the wall of the Rockscoe Police Station. He could hardly believe what had happened. Leaning his head on the cool cement wall next to the phone he thought about whom he should call.

Davy knew he couldn't call the guys. They would be furious with him and besides, they had no way to come and get him anyway. He couldn't call Adriana at work. She had enough stress there. The only other number he knew was one that he had memorized from calling it over and over many times a day, hoping to win the heart of the girl on the line. Slowly and carefully, he dialed Ursula's number.

"Hello," Ursula answered.

Davy remained quiet.

"Hello," she questioned.

Davy still remained quiet.

"Look," she asked angrily, "are you going to stand there breathing into the phone or are you actually going to say something?"

" 'elo luv," Davy finally spoke quietly.

"Davy," Ursula said, annoyed, "I thought I told you not to call me again. I don't like you. I don't want to go out with you, and I certainly don't want to hear any of your sappy excuses for pick up lines. Besides, didn't Adrian tell you that you were to call me in emergencies only?"

"Well luv," Davy began, "this is an emergency."

"I can't believe you, Davy Jones," Ursula said as she pulled away from the police station in her little, red Neon. "You're so lucky that that girl didn't press charges. Do you realize how much trouble you could have gotten into?"

"Save the lecture 'ey Ursula, I'm sure I'll get enough of that from Mike when I get 'ome," Davy grumbled.

"You, know," she said, "I really hope you do. You have got to learn that times are different now. Maybe where you come from it's appropriate to walk up to any girl on the street and say 'Hey foxy chick. You want to come to my pad and get groovy?', or whatever you said to that woman, but here it's just not acceptable. Not only is it sickening, but people take things that you say in a different way."

"I was just expressing me feelings," Davy said quietly.

"Well," Ursula said, her eye narrowing with disgust, "maybe you should learn to express them in a different way. That woman was this close to filing a sexual harassment case against you, and if I didn't get there in time to talk her out of it, you'd still be sitting in jail."

Davy leaned his head against the window and sighed.

"By the way," Ursula asked quietly after a few minutes of silence, "how's your eye?"

"It stings a bit," he answered, running his hand over where the woman's boyfriend had punched him. The spot was already turning many different shades of purple and blue.

She turned on the radio. The Shaniah Twain song "That Don't Impress Me Much" came out of the speakers. Ursula laughed to herself. As much as she couldn't stand the song, she had to admit it was very appropriate.

Ursula pulled her car into Adriana's driveway a few minutes later. "Here we are," she said.

"Ursula," Davy began, "I want to thank you for coming and helping me today."

Ursula turned to look at Davy. For the first time she noticed his handsome, dark brown eyes, and for once she actually saw sincerity in them.

"You're welcome," she sighed and turned away, "just be careful what you do and say here. Times have changed. Women are not toys that you can just play with for a day and throw out the next."

"Ursula," Davy said, reaching out her and turning her face towards him, "I really do like you."

"I know you do, Davy," she said, moving away when he touched her, "and I can really say that was one of the most sincere things you said to me. I’m just, I’m just looking for somebody real."

"I am real," Davy said, touching her hair.

Ursula sighed and broke away from him. "Davy, I wish I could agree with you. But I truly believe that it would take a long time for you to be what I would want. For right now, I think it would be best if we could just be friends."

Davy lowered his head, resigning, placing his hand on the door, getting ready to get out. "You won't tell anybody what happened today will you," he asked.

"I won't," she said quietly, "but what about your eye. What will you tell them about that?"

"I'll figure something out," he said getting out of the car. "Goodbye, Ursula."

"Bye, Davy," she answered.

"Man, Davy," Mike began as soon as Davy stepped though the door, "where have you been?"

"Davy," Adriana exclaimed as she ran to look at him, "what happened to your eye?"

"Well, you see," Davy lied, "I was walking down Main Street an’ I saw this really groovy chick. Some cat had a long pole sticking out of his truck an’ I didn't see it an’ walked right into it."

"Thank goodness you're okay," Adriana said, rushing to get some ice for him.

"Yeah," Micky said, "you sure had us worried, walking out like that."

"I'm fine," Davy said quietly, accepting the ice from Adriana and walking off to the basement. He had a lot to think about. Today David Jones had begun to learn an important lesson. Not about the right and wrong ways to 'bag a chick', but about the right and wrong ways to win a girl's heart.

"Well, Well, do-do-do-do-do," Micky sang with John Lennon's voice that came blasting out of the radio in the basement as the guys were getting their sheet music together. They knew that they would be recording the demo soon and wanted to make sure everything was in shape whenever they got to make the trip to Chicago.

"Hey," Adriana exclaimed, as she came bounding down the basement stairs. "Get packing, you guys. We've gotta be in Chicago in two hours. Bobby found out there was a cancellation in one of the recording rooms at his dad's record office and we've got it for the weekend!"

"Groovy," Davy shouted, throwing his tambourine in the air and catching it.

"Thanks Adrian," Peter said, going over to hug her.

"Yeah," Mike said, sitting there stunned, "thank you. I can hardly believe that we've gotten this far. I can't wait to get this stuff on tape."

"Whoohoo," Micky shouted throwing assorted papers in the air and running over to where Adriana and Peter stood. He was planning on giving Adriana a hug too, but he saw that Peter had her locked in an embrace so he turned around and picked up the papers instead.

Mike looked over at Peter and Adriana. Peter had his back to the group, but Mike could guess that he probably had his eyes closed, savoring the moment. When Mike looked at Adriana, he saw that she had her eyes open, looking in another direction. He didn't want to think about who she was looking at instead of paying attention to Peter.

Adriana cleared her throat and broke from Peter's embrace. "Come on guys," she said, shrugging off the blush the formed in her cheeks, "let's get going."

Thoughts, wonderings, comments...

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Part Five!

The Library

Email: silverbluegold@writeme.com