Morning had come again, and Abigail had gone home, back to face the music with Jeff. Cara and The Monkees were up already and sitting around, bored. Mike had his acoustic guitar out and was fiddling with it, playing random melodies and chords. Cara was playing with the ends of her hair, twirling it nonchalantly around her fingers. Sighs every now and then sounded from around the living room. "So what's going on today?" asked Cara, breaking the painful silence.

"Eh…" grunted Mickey.

"That's helpful," said Cara. Breaking the silence, almost violently, what seemed like the millionth knock on the door sounded, very loudly. Cara nearly jumped out of her skin. Who in the world could that be? Yelping, she grabbed Peter by the arm and rushed the two of them behind the staircase.

"What's wrong?" asked Peter, thrown off but thrilled that Cara made physical contact with him.

"Who'd knock that angry at the door of your house?" said Cara frantically.

"Wait…you don't think? Do you?" said Peter.

"Jeff?" answered Cara. "Well, anything's possible. I trust Abigail, but who's to say he hasn't followed her anywhere or beaten anything out of her?"

"You're safe here, remember that," said Peter. He daringly grabbed hold of Cara's small hand and gripped it tight. He was half expecting her to pull away; he knew it was stupid to do, and if it was indeed Jeff out there, he knew he'd be screwed being caught holding Cara's hand. But contrary to his belief, Cara's shaky hand tightened around his, and he hoped to God his nervousness wasn't making his palm sweat.

Mike got up cautiously to answer the door, and when he did and saw who was on the other side, he desperately felt like smacking both Peter and Cara. "Guys!" he shouted to the two cowering behind the stairs. "Come on out, it's just Mr. Babbitt!"

"Who's Mr. Babbitt?" asked Cara, feeling embarrassed as she and Peter crept out from behind the stairs.

"I am, I'm these boys' landlord!" yelled the man in the doorway. He was a frazzled looking older man wearing a suit. He had thinning black hair that was dusted with grey, a mustache over his lip, and thick black-rimmed glasses over beady eyes. "And you four are short on your rent—again!"

"Ah man…" groaned Davy. "Whose turn was it to pay again?" All except Cara turned to Peter.

"Ah…" said Peter. "Well, you see, I had the money, but…I kinda…lost it…"

"Ah geez Peter, how in the world did you lose it?" asked Davy, fuming.

"Well, you see," said Peter. "The other day…I was out walking around, and I had the money with me…I wanted to check on it to make sure it was still there so I took it out of my pocket, and it was there…but then there was a huge gust of wind and then it wasn't…"

"Well, kid, you better find a way to get yourself together!" shouted Mr. Babbitt. "I don't know how many times you've screwed up the rent Peter, but I swear, this time—"

"That's enough!" shouted Cara, finally losing control.

Mr. Babbitt stopped shouting at Peter and turned to face Cara. "And who's this piece of work?" he asked.

"I beg your pardon?" growled Cara, her eyes flashing.

"Oooooh, that's my little sister, Cara," said Mickey, sliding over to Cara and putting his arm around her shoulders, yanking her into him. "She's a little firecracker this one. Yepp, she'll be staying here for a while."

"I see," said Mr. Babbitt, looking ready to punch Mickey. "Well whether your sister is here or not, I expect all of you to go on living like you should—paying your damn rent! I don't wanna catch you late again!" With that, he left the house with a loud slam of the door.

"What a rude man!" screeched Cara. "I swear, I know the rent has to be paid, but—"

"Yeah, he's a dick, but we gotta live by his rules," said Mike. "And Peter—seriously?"

"I'm sorry guys," said Peter, looking very upset. "I didn't mean to lose the money, honest, I just made a mistake…"

"Pete, you always mess stuff up," said Davy.

"Hey!" snapped Cara. "Look, so Peter lost the money, we're not all perfect! It's not like any if you have paid the rent on time every time, right?" The other three boys looked extremely guilty. "I thought so," continued Cara. "Now, I figure that as long as I'm living here it'd only be fair for me to get a job and help you all out with the money. Right?"

"If you want," said Mike. "I mean…aren't you afraid of someone recognizing you?"

"No, we're far enough away. Abigail seeing me was a one in a million chance," said Cara.

"Well if you want a job it'll have to be somewhere you're sure Jeff would never go, just to be safe," said Mike.

"Wait…" said Peter. "He's definitely not a hippie type, right?"

"No…" said Cara. "Why?"

"Cause if you want a job, I've got just the place!" exclaimed Peter.

"That's cool," said Cara, surprised. "Where?"

"I'll surprise you!" said Peter. "It's great, you'll love it."

"Okay," said Cara. It was Peter—how bad could it be? "Oh, and one more question?"

"What?" asked the guys.

"Why did Mickey have to say that I was his sister?" asked Cara. "Just out of the question, seemed a little weird."

"Oh, Mr. Babbitt wouldn't like it if we had a random girl staying with us for an extended amount of time," said Mickey, shrugging. "And let's face it—you are pretty random."

"Oh, ok," said Cara. "And what would happen if he found out?"

"Well he'd probably kick you out, but we can keep this up," said Mickey.

"Cara, come on!" said Peter, excited. "I wanna show you this place! You'll get the job for sure!"

"You're not gonna take the car, are ya Pete?" asked Mike, worried.

"Yeah, I can drive," said Peter, who was that close to grabbing Cara's hand again and dragging her out of the house. Not only did he want to help her by getting her a job, but he was also ecstatic about spending his first time alone with Cara since she came to the apartment, even if it was just for a few minutes.

"I think he'll be fine," said Cara, making Peter's heart skip.

Mike sighed. "Okay, Peter can drive the car, but don't let him do anything stupid," he said reluctantly.

"Great!" said Peter, grinning ear to ear. "Let's go, Cara!" Peter and Cara walked out the door and into the Monkeemobile. "Really, this is gonna be perfect for you, no one like Jeff would ever come near this place and it's gonna be a lot of fun. I go there all the time,
said Peter as the car started up and he began to pull out of the driveway.

"Wait…" said Cara, with a sly grin. "If you go there all the time, and the job is as easy and enjoyable as you say, why don't you have it?"

"Well…I tried…but it didn't quite work out, if you know what I mean," said Peter, going red. "I broke some stuff…"

Cara laughed loudly. Peter was overcome by the large smile on her face and the wind blowing her thick auburn hair across her face and in the air. He tried with all his might to keep at least one eye on the road, just until he was able to park in front of a little building with a sign that said "Psychedelic Psycho."

'Uhm…a head shop?" asked Cara.

"Yepp," said Peter, nodding vigorously. Cara had to be honest with herself—a head shop was not really the place she thought she'd like to work, but she didn't want to let Peter down; he seemed to excited about it.

"Well, Jeff would never shop here," said Cara. "I can try it out."

"I knew you'd like it!" said Peter. "Come on, let's go inside." As Peter opened her door for her and led her into the shop, she wondered what she would see inside. She had never been to a head shop; Jeff wouldn't allow her, of course. While she was slightly reluctant to do it, she was curious. As soon as the door was opened, a heavy scent of different incenses hit her head on, mixed with a slighter hint of what she was sure was pot. Lining shelves were hookahs of different bright colors and sizes, T-shirts with different bands, tie-dye everywhere, scarves, pipes, herbs, teas, posters, and records. Behind the counter, which was a glass case with clay pipes and jewelry with a cash register on top of it, stood a man.

He had a shaggy beard and a long head of grizzled, dark hair that made him look much older than he was. He wore a brightly colored tie dye shirt and faded jeans and he had a pair of green tinted granny glasses over his dark, beady eyes. "Hey Bill!" greeted Peter as he approached the counter.

"Hey Big Pete," said the man, Bill. "How goes it, what can I help you with today?"

"I'm not actually here to buy anything today Bill," said Peter. "I've got someone here looking for that job I tried." He gestured to Cara, who awkwardly waved at the dirty hippie behind the counter.

"Well howdy-do stranger," said Bill. "What's your name?"

"Cara Lovelace," said Cara.

"Nice to meecha Cara, I'm Bill," said Bill. "Just Bill by the way, nothing but that. How old are you?"

"Nineteen," said Cara.

"Any other work experience?"

"Not really…"

"Can you hold fragile objects without breaking them?"

"Sure?"

"Okay, you're hired," said Bill. "When can you start?"

"Whenever you want me to, I guess," said Cara, amazed at the easiness of the application or interview or whatever that was. "I'm pretty open."

"Okay, well I'll give ya a break today, maybe have you look around with Peter here to familiarize yourself with the merchandise…and you can be right back here tomorrow at ten sharp to get started!" said Bill.

"Sounds good to me," said Cara shrugging. She looked over at Peter, who looked absolutely joyous.

"Seven an hour good for ya?" asked Bill.

"Money is money," said Cara. "You give me what you think I'll earn, I guess."

"Fantastic!" said Bill. "Alrighty then, have a look-see at your new workplace."

"So what do you think?" asked Peter as him and Cara went over to the shirts.

"Seems like it could be an interesting job," said Cara. "Doesn't seem too hard…I just have to not be clumsy and it seems like I'll be fine."

"Yeah, that's about it," said Peter. "That was my problem…dropped a boxload of hookahs my first day here…Bill wasn't mad at me, obviously, but he had to let me go so he could afford to pay for what I broke. I'm sure you'll do better."

Cara giggled. "We all make mistakes," she said. "I'm just gonna be glad to help fix your rent problem."

"You really don't need to," said Peter. "That was my error, you don't need to fix it."

"But I want to!" said Cara. "As long as I'm living with you all it's the least I can do. And I'm sure Mr. Babbitt would appreciate it. I hated seeing him yell at all of you."

"I could tell," said Peter. "Thanks for standing up to me Cara…I don't get that a lot."

"No problem Peter," said Cara. "You're a sweet guy."

Peter tried to hide his happiness, but it was very hard. "Thanks," he said.

"But you are," said Cara, beaming. For a few more minutes, they looked around the shop, but soon got tired and decided to leave. Walking out of the shop and into the car, Peter got what seemed in his head the dumbest idea he could've ever thought of, but said it anyway, because, hey, why the hell not?

"Do you wanna grab something to eat? Ya know…together?" he asked.

Cara grinned. "Well, we would be together of course," she said. "Sure!"

"I've got a great place," said Peter. His spirits were high at this point—there was nothing anyone could say or do to bring him down…until a loud crash and an even larger collision happened, of course.