Secrets of a Monkee
Summary: Micky meets his best friends during his darkest hour. Years later, his past comes back to haunt him. Can his friends help pull him back again?
Author's note: Okay, obviously I don't have any rights to the song "Shades of Gray" and I know Peter didn't write it, but I love this song, and this is after all about the characters of the show, not the real actors/musicians. And as you can tell, my fave Monkee is Micky, with Peter being second. Davy's third and then Mike in case you were wondering. :D
Also, I've already started chapter 4, so it'll go up soon.
Special thanks to Emilio for his musical input.
Chapter 3: Banded Together
The next several hours were filled with stories from Mike, Davy and Peter. Micky mostly sat there, not knowing what to say or do. He figured these guys needed to get to know each other as new room-mates, so he interjected a few questions here and there, but he didn't share any stories of his own. He didn't expect to be here much longer; where he'd go, he had no clue, however. Maybe now it was time to suck up his pride and go home with his parents. Trying not to think about it, Micky asked Mike and Davy how long they had known each other.
"Not very long," Mike replied. "We met about three or four months ago. I owe that to another friend of mine. Told him I was out of work singing on the street with my guitar and thinking of auditioning for a gig at some swanky hotel. My friend said that I wouldn't get it without a cute face; he said he knew of a short English one who had just gotten off the boat and needed a room-mate. I couldn't afford rent by myself since my old room-mates had just moved out, so I figured that whole two-birds-one-stone thing. Gave it a shot and regretted it ever since."
"Hey!" Davy said, playfully smacking Mike on the arm. Peter laughed, and Micky himself had to chuckle a little.
"So the same thing happened with Peter, then?" Micky asked, remembering the conversation from the day before about how a friend of Peter's had hooked him up.
"Yeah, all my friends are into music as much as I am, so we kinda all run in the same circles," Mike answered. "Told him that Davy and I were good, but I wanted a bass for our little band. Noticed that bands got more gigs that way. Plus it just sounds more fleshed out and less raw. Haven't had a chance to hear if Peter's any good though."
"Oh, I'm good," Peter said. "I hope….I've been playing guitar since I was barely able to hold it. Isn't hard to pick up after you know piano."
"You play piano, too?" Davy asked.
"Yeah, and after the guitar I started messing with a bass, and for the last couple years I've been perfecting the banjo." They all stared in silence at him.
"You play all that?" Micky asked, remembering how hard it was to learn the guitar. "You're like a one man band!" Peter turned a bright shade of pink and lowered his head a little.
"I just love music."
"And you write?" Micky asked, remembering the sheet music Peter had nearly died trying to save.
"Well, I haven't written very many songs. That's become sort of a new venture for me."
"Wow..." Mike said. "I've tried writing songs before, and I just can't really seem to do it."
"You'll get there, Mike," Davy said. "Oh! It's getting late! We should get some practicing in if we have any hope of nailing that audition we have next week. We've never practiced with Peter before, so we shouldn't really waste any time."
"Not that this has been a waste of time," Mike said looking at Micky, clearly trying to make sure Micky didn't get offended or feel guilty. The though hadn't even crossed Micky's mind though.
"Of course not," Micky said, assuring Mike he wasn't. Davy and Peter both got up after telling Micky to rest and that they'd see him later.
"Actually, if you're feeling up to it," Mike said standing in the doorway, "you can take a shower downstairs, and we have some soup in the cupboard. We already ate before you woke up." Micky realized for the first time how hungry he was and how gross he felt. He hadn't wanted to take a shower this bad in his entire life.
"Yeah," Micky moved his legs off the bed and tried to stand. He'd regained most of his balance and strength and was able to stand with only a little wobbling. He noticed Mike tense up by the door, ready to run and grab Micky in case he fell. Micky straightened himself all the way and felt a slight dizziness in his head, but shook it off. "Um, what box has my bathroom stuff in it?"
"Oh, don't worry about that. We have plenty of soaps and stuff. I can grab you a towel from the cupboard and I think I have a pair of sweats that might fit you. You can worry about unpacking your things later."
"Unpacking?" Micky wasn't sure what he meant by that. He thought he was just there to "sleep it off", as Mike had put it earlier. Why would he unpack if he was just going to be leaving soon?
"Well, sure. You didn't think we'd just throw you out onto the street with nowhere to go, now did you?" Mike's smile was bright and warming. Micky didn't know what to say and just stood there, dumbstruck. How could complete strangers be so welcoming and nice to him? He didn't deserve it. "Come on, I'll get that towel and those clothes." Mike walked out the door before Micky could even think to protest. Pulling himself together, Micky followed.
He was on the top floor of a large house. There was a spiral staircase leading to a large room that served as a living room, dining room, kitchen, and a stage nestled in an alcove. Davy and Peter were already sitting there, holding their instruments and looking at some sheet music. Behind them was a giant bay window and even in the darkness, Micky could tell it overlooked the beach. No wonder Mike needed room-mates. This place had to be expensive, but it was beautiful.
"Hey, Mike, you coming?" Davy asked.
"Yeah, just gonna show Micky the shower and get him a change of clothes for now," Mike answered. Micky slowly followed Mike down the stairs, but stopped when Mike opened the door to what must have been his room. Moments later he came out with some clothes in his arms. "Bathroom's this way, Micky." Micky silently followed. Mike stopped short in front of another door and opened it. The bathroom was like every other bathroom, but it was bigger than the one he had at the club. Mike seemed to rummage around under the counter for something, but came up short. "Hey, Davy, where are the clean towels?"
"Oh, I just washed them last night before the gig," Davy said, jumping down from the stage, and doing a little bounce on a black couch that reminded Micky of something he would see in a shrinks office. Davy moved quickly and gracefully, for a short guy.
"Hey that was cool!" Peter said with a little laugh when Davy landed like a gymnast.
"Thanks!" Davy answered, moving to grab a bag of laundry by the door. He rifled through it and emerged with a plain black towel before throwing it over to Mike and Micky. Micky tried to catch it, but didn't have his coordination back and missed. Without saying anything, Mike bent over to pick it up and hand it to Micky.
"There's plenty of soap in there, so use as much as you want," Mike said. "Water is a set price every month, so feel free to use as much as you want. When you get done, I can throw some soup on the stove for you. I think we might even have some crackers."
"Thank you," Micky said. He suddenly wished there was a better phrase to express just how thankful he really was. Those two words didn't seem to do how he felt justice. He smiled at Mike for the first time in what felt like ages. A real smile. Mike smiled back and with a simple "you're welcome" went to join the other two in practicing. Micky shut and locked the door behind him and just stood there for a moment. What was happening? He had lived a horrible life over the last several months since she left him, and now here he was being treated with dignity and respect. Something only Maria had done for him these past months. He had ignored all her attempts to make him happy, though, because he knew that only moments later, Robert or Billy would come and make him feel like something stuck on the bottom of their shoes. But he didn't have to deal with them now. He could start a new life. Find a new job and another cheap hovel to live in. And maybe he would stay friends with these people. He wanted to, but wasn't sure if they did.
Micky stripped down, and turned the water on. He stayed in the shower for at least half an hour, taking up Mike's offer to use as much as he wanted. The hot water felt good. It was almost as if it were washing away all the despair he felt over the last several months. With each passing moment, he felt himself start to be happy. His mind played back everything that had happened with the other three men. Their smiles were so genuine and warm. Peter and Davy both had very infectious laughs. Micky loved the way that Peter's whole face would seem to light up when he laughed and his eyes shone when he was happy, which seemed to be all the time now that he knew Micky was ok. He could see the same passion for music he used to have in each of them.
When he had turned the shower off, he heard the music coming from the living area. He stood and listened as they wrapped up the song they were practicing. Peter was singing, and even from the last few words of the song Micky could tell he had a really good voice.
"That was good," Mike said when the song ended. "I really like it, Peter. We should use that one in our audition."
"Yeah, but I'm terrible on the drums," Davy said. "We need a better drummer."
"I thought you sounded good," Peter countered.
"I kept beat well enough, sure, but I messed up in a lot of places!"
"Well, this is our first night playing this song," Mike said, "Did you expect to play it perfectly the first time?"
"Of course not, but you guys barely messed up."
"Well, that's cause I wrote it," Peter said.
"Why don't we talk to Micky? You saw the drumsticks on his dresser, Mike. Maybe he'll play for us."
"No," Mike said. "We can't ask Micky. There weren't exactly any drums in his room for one, and for two, I think that bartender was going to suggest him at the club last night when he ran over to cut her off. Remember? Even if he did play the drums, he obviously doesn't want to any more. And we aren't going to push him on it."
"I know, but we really need this gig. The money will pay our rent for 2 months. The only reason we can pay this month's rent is Peter!"
"I'm well aware of that, Davy, but the answer is still no. Micky is a guest. I don't know how long he's going to be here, or even how long he wants to be here. If he wants to pick up and leave tomorrow morning, I'm not going to stop him."
"You're not?" Peter asked.
"No. I'll try and talk him out of it, cause he obviously has no place to go, but I won't tell anyone what they can and cannot do. Davy, just keep practicing. You'll get it. I think Micky's out of the shower anyway, so no more talk about this. I'm gonna start his dinner." Micky didn't know what to think or say to them. Once again, he was blown away by Mike's generosity toward a perfect stranger.
Micky pulled the clothes on that Mike had given him. Mike was only a little taller than Micky, by about an inch, so the clothes fit very well. The sweat pants were a little long on him, but barely noticeable. The shirt was a little tight fitting because Mike's chest was smaller, but again, it was barely noticeable. Micky brushed his fingers through his hair to try and tame the wild jungle of brown curls, but without hairspray it was impossible, so he gave up. When he smelled the soup, he made his way out to the kitchen. Peter was sitting next to Davy by the drums, trying to help him play a little better and Mike was standing by the stove, stirring something in a pot.
"Hey," Peter said when he saw Micky. "Feel any better?"
"Much, thank you," Micky answered truthfully. He felt like he'd washed all the weight of the world away.
"Have a seat," Mike said, indicating the table in the kitchen. "The soup's almost ready. I think there's a little orange juice left, or I can give you water."
"I can get it," Micky said, crossing over to the kitchen, not wanting Mike to completely cater to him. "Where are the glasses?"
"Up in that cabinet," Mike said, "but I really don't mind."
"That's ok. Thank you, though." Micky grabbed a glass from the cupboard and crossed to the sink to fill it with water. He drank most of it in one gulp, not realizing how thirsty he was.
"Slow down," Davy laughed, "Don't choke!" Micky had to laugh a little too as he filled the glass again. This time he set it down at the table and waited till Mike put the bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of him.
"I guess we didn't have any crackers," Mike said apologetically.
"That's ok," Micky said as he started eating. "Hey, can you guys play that song again? I only caught the tail end of it, and I wanna hear how you sound."
"Sure!" Peter said excitedly. Davy looked a little pale. Micky guessed he still thought his drumming was terrible and didn't want to play in front of anyone. Peter walked over to a small keyboard and sat down to play it. Mike crossed over to the stage and picked up his guitar and started counting out for the others. Peter began the song on the keyboard and soon the others joined in. Davy began singing, and although the song sounded absolutely beautiful and Davy had excellent vocal abilities, he had been right about looking goofy behind the drums. It was a good song about morality and how it seemed easy as a child, but as adults it was much harder. It resonated with Micky, considering what he had just done. This must have been the song that Peter had nearly thrown his life away to save.
All three sang during the chorus, and they had good harmony together, but Micky thought it was missing something. With Mike singing bass, Peter singing baritone, and Davy singing tenor, Micky thought it would sound better as a four part harmony with a high tenor added. Peter began to sing at the end of the chorus and then through the rest of the song. His skills on the piano were very good. Micky saw the passion in his eyes as he played. Mike stood there with his guitar, staring at the sheet music as he played. He really was good on the guitar, as Micky had noted the night before, but now he had time to appreciate it. Mike only made a few mistakes on it, which was incredible seeing as how he had only learned the song half an hour earlier. Davy on the other hand was making more mistakes. He seemed to get frustrated, which made him mess up even more, but he kept playing. When the song ended, Micky clapped for them. He couldn't help it; he really did like the song.
"That was great!" Micky said.
"Really?" Peter beamed.
"What's it called?"
"Shades of Gray. It's the one I showed you yesterday. I have a few more, but they aren't done yet."
"I like it, too," Mike said. "We usually just do covers, but I want to use that for our audition next week."
"I think it sounds good," Micky said. "A little more practice and you'll be perfect!" He was saying that more to try and build Davy's confidence, because Micky could tell he could be really great on the drums with a little more practice.
"I've never been taught the drums," Davy said. "Not formally, anyway. Just kind of picked it up out of necessity more than anything else. You think it sounded ok?"
"Yeah," Micky said. "Like I said, just a little practice, and I think you guys'll land that audition. Especially with a song like that!" Davy smiled, a little confidence added to him. He began playing the drums again, trying to practice and get the song down more.
"So, Micky," Peter said as he walked over to the table and sat down himself. "What do you plan to do now?"
"I don't really know," Micky answered. "I mean, I know I have to find a job and a place to stay and everything, but…"
"You don't have to find a place to stay," Mike interrupted, turning a third chair around to sit backwards in it. "You can stay here as long as you need."
"I couldn't impose."
"It wouldn't be an imposition, really. Once you get a job, you can either save up a little of your checks to move out and help out with food and stuff, or decide to stay and pay a fourth of the rent. But until then, we've got the room up there that's not being used. Why let it go to waste?"
"What about utilities and stuff? I'd be using more electricity?"
"That's included as a flat rate in our rent just like the water," Davy said, now joining them at the table. "Having you stay here wouldn't really cost us any more money in anything other than food."
"Which you can help out with once you get a job," Peter added. Micky smiled again. These guys were trying to convince him to stay instead of go out on the cold streets. Micky thought back to the conversation they didn't know he'd overheard about what a struggle it was for them to pay rent, but he didn't say anything. He just decided that he would stay as long as they wanted him and he would find a job and help out with food and rent.
A week had passed and Micky still hadn't found a job. The few places that were hiring chose someone with more experience than him. He found it frustrating. The others had tried to keep him encouraged, but Micky was really struggling to stay happy when he kept feeling like he was letting his new friends down.
Meanwhile, Davy, Mike and Peter practiced day and night for their audition, but Davy really wasn't getting any better. The night before the audition, Micky sat at the top of the stairs out of sight and listened as they practiced. Mike and Peter were doing excellently, but Davy messed up again halfway through this song. Usually he just played through it, but this time he heard a loud growl from Davy and saw the drumsticks go flying into the living room, making him jump a little. Peter and Mike immediately stopped playing.
"I just can't do it!" Davy shouted angrily. "It's too hard! I can't do it!"
"Davy, just breathe," Peter said trying to calm Davy down. Micky sighed as he pushed himself up and walked down the stairs.
"Sorry, Micky," Mike said when he saw him. "Did we bother you?" But Micky didn't answer. He walked over to where the drumsticks had landed and picked them up. Without a word he walked over to Davy, sitting behind the drums and red with frustration.
"You're gripping them too tightly," Micky told Davy as he handed them back to Davy. "And you're hands are a bit high. Hold them further towards the bottom, you have better control." Mike, Peter, and Davy just stared at him. Micky smiled at Davy to try and calm him down. "And don't let yourself get flustered, you'll just make more mistakes." Davy took the drumsticks from Micky and held them over the drums ready to try again. He looked up at Micky as if to ask "Am I doing this right?", and Micky shook his head. Davy was still gripping them too tight. Micky walked around and took Davy's hands trying to loosen his fingers. Finally, Davy had a good grip and started playing. This time he was able to get through the harder parts with very few mistakes. Micky smiled. "Keep practicing. I'm going to go for a walk on the beach."
"Thanks!" Davy said before Micky walked through the door in the alcove that led to the beach. He heard them start again, and listened to Davy. He played much better now. Micky wasn't sure what made him do that. He really didn't want to get back into the music again, but he felt he owed them a little help because he couldn't pay for anything yet. If he could help them land that gig, he would.
When he came back to the house, none of the others were there. Micky assumed they must have gone to bed, as they had a big day at the audition tomorrow. He paused at the table where he saw the sheet music for the song. He sat down and studied it. The drum part didn't really look that hard. It took almost 15 minutes for Micky to realize he'd been beating out the drum part with his fingers on the table like he used to do when he needed to practice something at home without waking the whole house. Shaking his head, he too walked up to his room and went to bed.
The next day, Micky said he'd wanted to watch the others audition to show his support. So he sat there in the seats of a large stadium with the other three around him. In various other seats were other bands and acts. In the very front were three men holding clipboards who appeared to be the men holding the auditions. Finally, one of them stood up and walked on stage.
"Alright, ladies and gentleman," he said into the microphone. "We are going to begin this audition. Remember we need 2 bands for an upcoming event hosted here next week. Good luck to everyone." The man got down and returned to his seat.
"The first group please!" the man seated next to him shouted. A group in the corner got up and quickly made their way to the stage and began to play. They had sort of a country western sound to them, but they were really good. As were all the other bands. With each great performance, Micky could see Davy slowly growing paler as he gripped the drumsticks in his hands. Micky hoped Davy would relax so he would remember not to grip the sticks as tightly as he played.
"What number are you guys," Micky whispered to Mike.
"13," Mike replied.
"What an unlucky number," Micky thought out loud with a chuckle, but quickly regretted it, as Davy turned to them with a look of horror on his face.
"I don't think I can do this, guys," Davy said. If his brow had been any more furrowed, Micky would have thought Davy only had one eyebrow. "The others are so good. They sound like they've been playing drums for years. I've only been playing for a few months and only got my first lesson last night!"
"That wasn't really a lesson, Davy," Micky said, and again regretted it when Davy's face went even paler.
"Oh!" he said with a slight squeak.
"Calm down, Davy," Micky tried assuring him. "Do what Peter always says. Breathe. Breathe in, breathe out." They all did this breathing exercise to try and calm Davy down, but it didn't seem to work.
"If we don't get this gig, we can't pay the rent for next month!" Mike shot Davy a look that told him to shut up. "I can't compete with that!" Davy said ignoring Mike and pointed at the stage as the current act did a drum solo.
"Sure you can," Micky said with a chuckle as the rest of the group started playing again, "that guy just lost the beat! He's not keeping up with the rest of the song! You have excellent rhythm."
"I know that, but I'm more suited for percussion than drums. And vocals!"
"Alright, Peter, can I see the song a minute?"
"Sure," Peter said with a confused look, but handed the music over nonetheless.
"Just calm down, Davy," Micky instructed. "It'll be fine. Remember what I told you last night. Loose and low." Micky studied the music again. This time studying the chorus too, where all three of the men sang. There were 4 acts in front of them, and no one said anything during their performances. None of the other saw him as he once again used his fingers as drumsticks against his legs. He was doing this purposefully this time. When the act right in front of them finished, Micky was confident in the song.
"Alright, number 13!" called one of them men from down in front.
"Oh!" Davy gasped out again.
"Here we go," Mike said as he and Peter stood up. Micky was really banking on Davy suddenly getting a wave of confidence in his drumming skills, but judging by the look on his face, that wasn't going to happen, despite Mike and Peter trying to encourage him. The man in front called them again, and Mike answered that they were coming. Micky couldn't take it anymore and stood up.
"Give me the sticks," Micky said forcefully to Davy, holding his hand out.
"What?" Davy asked confused.
"Give me the sticks," Micky repeated.
"Micky, what are you doing?" Mike asked.
"What does it look like I'm doing? Saving your butts! Now come on, they aren't gonna wait very much longer, give me the sticks, Davy." Davy silently handed over the sticks, and Micky leapt over the chairs to get to the aisle as Mike and Peter were still standing in his way, dumbstruck. "Are you guys coming?" he asked halfway to the stage. Mike, Peter and Davy scurried after him. When they got on stage, Micky sat behind the drums. He felt a little flutter in his stomach, but it wasn't nervousness.
"Micky, are you sure you can do this?" Mike whispered to him as Peter set up the piano with nervous glances back at them.
"Yeah, I kinda practiced with my fingers last night and just now in case Davy choked, which I was hoping didn't happen, but it did."
"But…"
"But nothing, I heard what you guys said last week about needing the money. Yes, I don't like playing anymore, but since I haven't been able to find any other way to help you out with money, I kind of have to do this."
"Are you boys ready?" said one of the men sitting just below the stage, rather impatiently.
"Yes, we are, sorry!" Micky said. Then he turned to Peter. "Play!" Peter nodded and started his part. Micky dove in on his cue flawlessly. He chimed in singing the chorus at a higher pitch than Davy, making for the perfect harmony. When they finished, Micky looked out at the men below them. They were smiling and scribbling on their clipboards. Micky felt a rush he hadn't felt in months flow over him. He suddenly realized that Peter, Mike and Davy were all staring at him.
"Thank you," said one of the men below. Micky took that as the cue to go back into the audience to watch the rest of the auditions. When they had returned to their seats, Micky still had a smile on his face. He felt good. Holding the sticks in his hands, he finally felt whole again.
"Wow!" Davy said.
"That was terrific!" Peter said, hugging him. Once again, Micky had to put one foot behind him so as not to fall over; Peter's hugs were very forceful. Mike smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.
"You really did save our butts," he said. "I admit, I wasn't sure if you were gonna be good or not, and I was terrified, but that was amazing."
"Why did you even stop playing," Davy said. "You're excellent!"
"I just didn't feel it anymore," Micky answered.
"Do you feel it now?" Peter asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, I do."
"Well, then welcome to the band!"
"Wait a minute, Peter," Mike said. All three stared at him. Davy looked almost as if he would sock him.
"What do you mean, Mike?" he asked. "Micky was great!"
"Yes, but I'm not gonna force him into the band. If he wants to join, then we can say it." They all looked at Micky and he suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He had sworn off music, but now he began to ask himself why. Was it just the depression? He couldn't blame it entirely on her. He had been playing and writing music before he had begun dating her. He had lost the spark when she left, but it was his own fault for not trying to find it again. Now he had. The three smiling faces staring at him.
"We need a name," Micky said.
"He said 'we'!" Peter exclaimed, jumping up and down with excitement. Mike held out a hand with a smile.
"Welcome to the band, Micky Dolenz," he said. Micky put his hand on top of Mike's and Davy and Peter followed suit. They were officially a band. Micky just hoped they got this gig so they could continue being a band. If they couldn't pay the rent, who knew what would happen to them. And Micky didn't want this feeling to stop. Not when he finally felt truly happy again.