Chapter 9- That Was Then, This is Now

The sun was shining through the windows as it had the day before. Davy sat up, seeing Micky, Mike, and Peter fast asleep. He glanced over at the alarm clock next to his bed. Seven thirty. Davy sighed, but got out of bed anyway. He grabbed some clothes from the closet and made his way into the bathroom across the hall. Mindlessly he showered and dressed, keeping an ear open for the sounds of any of his band mates waking up. When he was finished with his daily routine, he almost galloped down the stairs and into the living room, looking out one of the windows. No one was out yet. The neighborhood was dead silent, apart from the light breeze and the occasional chirping bird.

He couldn't help but think about Melissa. There was something weird about her. She didn't rub off on him like she had the day before. Davy couldn't quite pinpoint it. The first thing might have been that she ended up with Mike anyway even though he didn't go to the party. He also still wasn't happy with the fact that she referred to him as Michael. Mike was always Mike unless it was an emergency, or panic, or fear. Michael was never used for casual conversation. When it was, Mike never liked it and that rubbed off on the others. Mike was Mike.

"Mornin' Davy," Davy turned to see Mike trudge down the stairs, making a direct turn for the kitchen.

Davy didn't reply at first, but then decided to ask, "You wanna talk about last night?" Davy said, the sight of Mike instantly reminding him of the dangerous game he was playing.

"What's there to talk about?" Mike asked, obviously not very focused.

"Melissa," Davy said. "She came over last night."

"Yeah, she did," Mike said, filling his bowl with cereal. Davy paused, looking for the right words as to not sound accusing, but Mike caught his drift. "You wanna know what we talked about, don't you?"

"A little, yeah. Considering she didn't know who you were yesterday and probably has completely forgotten about you today," Davy proposed.

"We don't know that," Mike defended.

Davy shrugged. "So, what did you talk about?"

"Stuff," Mike said, putting the milk away.

"Like…?" Davy pushed.

"Life, us, the usual things you talk about when you meet someone for the first time."

"But it wasn't the first time for you," Davy said.

"Yeah, but I asked the same questions, just to make it seem like it was the first time." Mike drifted off for a bit, looking into the sea of cereal that sat in his bowl. He had his spoon in hand, but had not made the attempt to eat yet.

"You fell in love with her again, didn't you?"

"Oh knock it off Davy," Mike groaned. "You can only fall in love with the same person once."

"Then let me rephrase that. She fell in love with you again."

"So what? You fall in love everyday."

"And I get over it everyday. You," Davy said, pointing at him for emphasis, "fall in love when you're actually in love."

"So?"

"Mike, have you forgotten where we are? We're not at home. The goal is to go home."

"And how do you suspect we do that Davy?" Mike said, his temper brewing.

"I don't know, but we need all hands on deck in order to get home, not our heads in the clouds fallin' for trouble."

"Trouble?" Mike scoffed. "Well you're one to talk. Angelita, Fern, Princess Bettina, Ellie Reynolds, Leslie Vandenburg, Princess Colette, must I go on? You've caused more trouble falling for girls than I have. How can you even assume that Melissa is going to cause trouble for us?"

"Because they always do! All of those girls are perfect examples, but there was also April Conquest who we all fell for, Ella Mae Chubber whose father kidnapped me; I didn't even love her like I did the others, and Ellen Farnsby who, if I remember correctly, was trouble because you sought to help her when we were supposed to not get involved with the clients!" Davy took a deep breath. "Girls have never been good luck for us. Why would Melissa be any different? When I talked with her last night… She… well, something is not right about her."

"And how would you know? How long did you talk with her last night? Five, maybe ten minutes?" Mike assumed, angirly setting his spoon down. "You fall in love everyday. I don't even think you have a right to tell me Melissa is going to cause trouble." Mike scoffed. "Why are you even trying to argue this point, Davy? What's it to you whether or not Melissa loves me? Are you jealous that for once you're not the one getting the girl?"

"Mike, no, that's not-"

"Or is it because you think you might lose me to this crazy neighborhood if I don't follow the Monkee-norm?" Mike said sarcastically. "Look man, Melissa is not going to cause any trouble. She might even help us get out of here if you would just lighten up and stop being so… so…" He couldn't find a word. Instead, he angrily grabbed his cereal and marched out of the kitchen.

"So much like you?" Davy muttered to himself.

Micky and Peter entered, clad in their pajamas and confusion. "What's goin' on down here?" Micky asked, going straight for the cereal box Mike left on the counter.

Davy gave an disappointed huff. "I don't trust Melissa," he whispered so Mike wouldn't hear. "Something's not right with her."

"What makes you think that?" Peter asked. "She's literally the nicest person in this neighborhood besides Mrs. Gray."

"But all the nice girls seem to cause us trouble, don't they?" Davy sighed.

Peter and Micky gave each other concerned glances. He wasn't wrong. "What are you saying?" Micky asked.

"Man, I don't know what it is, but last night I was getting all the wrong vibes off her," Davy confessed. "When Mike brought you in here to get fixed up, I stopped out in the living room with Melissa, and something didn't feel right. She didn't feel right."

"Man, it's probably nothing," Micky said. "It was probably the whole anxiety of me hitting my head again.

He took in a deep breath to keep his temper. "She referred to him as Michael last night. No one calls him Michael except for us, and that's usually when something really bad is going on."

"Davy, it's nothing," Peter said. "People call him Michael all the time. It's his real, full name. It's on his license. There's nothing terribly upsetting about it."

"Yeah but Mike always introduces himself as Mike, not Michael-"

"Davy," Micky groaned. "We're only on Day Three. This whole Melissa thing is probably nothing. Let it go. We've got a trial to complete, and we can't complete it if you're worrying about Mike and Melissa's relationship. Maybe she'll be good for us, maybe even help us."

Something in his gut told him that that was not true, no matter how much he wanted it to be. Davy gave a great, long sigh to indicate his defeat.

The day played out as it did the two days prior, except in a fashion more normal to the residents of Pleasant Valley. The Monkees rehearsed at nine while David Squire came out and mowed his lawn. Mrs. Gray babied her roses in her yard and the children kicked their ball into the Monkees yard, where Mike happily gave them the ball back. Mrs. Gray gave the Monkees a heart-warming good morning and bragged about her roses even though they didn't ask. At noon the Monkees refrained from playing so Mr. Green could watch his programs. Around twelve-thirty Melissa stopped by, inviting the Monkees to the barbecue that night. Mike wouldn't let any of them say no.

At the party, the Monkees played their part. They mingled, making everything up as they went along. Mike, of course, became preoccupied with Melissa.

"You're… Mike, right?" Melissa asked, walking up to him with a drink in her hand.

"Yeah," Mike smiled. "Melissa?"

"Yeah. Uh, you have some very… eccentric friends," She stumbled around looking for a conversation starter, just as she had the two previous nights. Of course she didn't remember that, but he did.

"Yeah, they're a handful," Mike chuckled. "But when you put an instrument in their hands, they shape up."

"You're musicians?" Melissa asked.

"Well, that's why we're called the Monkees. Can't think of any other reason to be called that."

Melissa shrugged. "How many years have you been living here?"

"Two years, or so I'm told," Mike pretended to joke.

"Oh really?" Melissa said.

"Yeah," Mike was at a loss for words. He had already learned everything he wanted to know about the girl, and reasking the same questions over and over seemed annoying and tiresome.

"So what do you play?" Melissa continued the questions so he wouldn't have to ask.

"Guitar. Peter plays bass, Micky's on drums, and Davy plays whatever miscellaneous percussion we need him on. We all sing pretty well, too."

"Maybe you four can play at our next party," Melissa suggested, as she had the two previous nights.

"We'd be honored to," Mike told her for the third night in a row.

"Do… Do you wanna, maybe go inside? Somewhere less noisy?" Melissa suggested in her shy, clumsy manor. This took Mike by surprise. However, he smiled and the two went into the house.

The Duncan house was the same as the Monkees' house. Exactly the same. The two sat down on the couch, however a little closer this time, and talked. They talked about music and teaching and children. Childhood stories and Monkee shenanigans. Mike was in love.

Mike laughed. "You know, Davy thinks that you might be trouble," He said in a joking tone.

"Me?" Melissa laughed. "Why me?"

"Oh we always get into trouble when it comes to girls. Usually it's his fault, but I digress. We've all had our fair share of trying to protect or impress a woman and it resulting in some crazy adventure. One time, we even tried chaining Davy to a chair so he wouldn't be exposed to any girls! That didn't work out too well."

"Well," Melissa reached out and touched Mike's hand, bringing the fun and laughter down to a light, tense, exciting setting. "I promise I will be no trouble to you, Michael Nesmith. I'll be a good little girl. I don't have any crazy Russian bosses or evil uncles. There's just me." She leaned over, kissing him on the cheek. Mike's face burned red, but his smile burned more.

"MIKE!" A voice yelled from outside. Micky hit his head. Again.

"Sorry, I guess that's my queue," Mike quickly got up and ran towards the doors.