Disclaimer:

I do not own the Monkees, nor are they my original creation. The Monkees, their music, and their TV show are owned by Rhino Records and Sony Pictures Television, respectively. The characters and show were created by Bob Rafelson and Bert Schneider. The following story series is a work of fiction. The Monkee characters are composites of their TV characters and their real-life personalities. Other characters may also be based on real people associated with the Monkees, composites of multiple people or even completely made up. No defamation is intended. Situations depicted may be either fictionalized accounts of real events or completely fabricated for story purposes.

Mona just sat down on the living room couch when Mike storms in angrily.

"This is BS," he growls.

Startled, Mona cries out "Whoa! What's BS?"

"The 'music.'"

"What's BS about it?" she asks curiously.

Mike paces back and forth while exclaiming, "It's dishonest. It's not us playin'. It's barely us singin', an' we're...uh... not even singin' our own damn songs."

"Well, that's a bummer. I thought they were going to use your songs."

"So, did I. At least that's what... uh... Bob told me when I first signed onto this thing."

"Did you get that in writing?"

"No. I didn't think of it at the time. I figgered a man's word was enough."

Incredulous, Mona asks, "In this town?"

Disappointed with himself, Mike's voice trails off, "Yeah… Well, apparently not…"

"That was a naïve move on your part, but it's a little late now."

"Yeah, no shit."

"So, what are you going to do about it?"

"I dunno yet, but I'll think of somethin'."

"Don't do anything crazy," Mona warns Mike.

He snaps back, "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"I know you, and I don't want either of us to lose this gig."

"Look, I don't either." Mike takes a deep breath and his voice cracks as he swallows back tears, "But do you know how... uh... demoralizing it is to a musician when you... uh... tell him that he can't play on his own goddamn song? The system is fucked up. An' I'm not going to compromise my...uh... integrity for anyone. I didn't sell my soul when I signed on that dotted line. Uh, at least I don't think I did…"

"I dig that. Do the other guys know you're this upset?"

"Yeah."

"And what do they think?"

"Pete agrees with me."

"I figured that. Like you, he's a musician first. What about the others?"

"Mick an' David just told me that's show business and to suck it up."

"Well, they are actors first. They've seen the shadier side of this business."

Mike furrows his brow and demands accusingly, "Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"Hey, I'm not the enemy here." Mona places her arms around Mike's thin frame and pulls him close. His face softens as she looks up into his deep brown eyes, swiping his black hair out of his face, and reassures him, "Babe, I'm on your side. I can see where they're coming from is all I meant. From your reaction, I can see that their comments went over like a lead balloon."

A slight grin creeps across Mike's lips, "Your powers of perception continue to impress me, you Evil Witchy Woman, you." He kisses her on the forehead.

"Aww…" Mona looks up into Mike's face and smiles at him. He smiles back at her. Mona continues, "Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I don't like that Kirshner guy much, either."

"Oh really? You've met Donnie?"

"Yeah. That smarmy SOB came into the office to 'introduce' himself. It was more like he burst in to break up the party. He walked in like he owned the joint and started making demands. I thought he was going to start measuring the blinds."

Mike chuckles a bit and then asks, "He invaded your castle an' acted like he was there to take your job?"

Mona points her finger into Mike's chest, "Bingo." Mona kisses him on the lips.