After the boys and Cara got back to the apartment, Abigail hopped in her own car and drove home. She seriously hoped her brother wasn't home, but this late at night he probably was. Once her drive was over, she parked and walked into her house. Sure enough, there was Jeff, sitting on the couch, holding an open beer can, and watching TV. "Where've you been?" asked Jeff, not taking his eyes off the TV screen.

"Out," said Abigail sitting down on the chair next to the couch. "What's it to you?"

"I need to know what you're doing when I'm not around!" said Jeff. He finished off what was left of his beer and crushed it, throwing it to the side. "And what's that on your neck?"

"I beg your pardon?" asked Abigail.

"That mark on your neck, you dumb bitch, you know exactly what I'm talking about!" yelled Jeff. "Is that a hickey?"

"Oh man," muttered Abigail as she ran her fingers across the side of her neck. She looked at her reflection in the mirror across the hall and saw a nice-sized hickey on her neck. Davy must've left it there before the gig that night, and of course it was in plain view due to her short hair. "But why do you care?" she asked defensively. "I'm not your plaything, I'm your sister!"

"I don't give a crap what you are, you tell me where you've been!" Jeff boomed.

"I was out with my boyfriend, okay?" snapped Abigail. "He's in a band and they had a gig tonight. Happy?"

"No, Abigail, I'm not happy," said Jeff. "Who told you that you could date?"

"I told me, you bastard," said Abigail.

"I need to meet this punk," said Jeff. "Tomorrow, and if you don't bring him here, there'll be hell to pay, you understand?"

"Fine," huffed Abigail as she stormed off to her room. Well, there was no getting around this one…Davy Jones was going to have to be the second Monkee to meet Jeff.

Cara was out on a morning stroll on the beach out behind the apartment. The salty air permeated her nose and woke her up slowly. The sand felt nice and soft on her bare feet and the sound of the waves softly crashing on the shore was like music. She'd been out there for quite a while, and when she heard her stomach start to growl, she knew it was time to go inside. She climbed up the wooden steps and went through the back door. As she wiped her sandy feet off on the mat, the telephone rang.

"Hello?" said Mike, who answered it. "Oh, Davy, it's for you."

"Who is it?" asked Davy, coming over and taking the phone.

"It's Abigail," said Mike.

"Terrific," said Davy. He cleared his throat and answered the phone. "Hello, my dear! I'm fine, how are you? Yes, I'm free today. Wait…I have to what? Oh, you can't be serious darling. I have to or else he'll do what? How the hell did he find out about me? Oh…that…guess I should've been more careful…what? Right away? Okay, I guess I'll see you soon then…" He hung up, looking dreadfully terrified.

"What's wrong?" asked Cara.

"Well…you see…" said Davy. "Jeff somehow found out about Abigail and me, cause he's her brother…and…he wants to meet me…right now."

"Oh God!" said Cara. "Does that mean he's coming here?"
"No," said Davy. "Abigail made sure of that. He wants me to come to their place."

"Well Davy, welcome to the 'I had an unfortunate run-in with Jeff club," said Peter.

"But I haven't had a run-in with him yet," said Davy.

"Well, you will soon!" said Peter.

"Yeah, thanks Pete," said Davy flatly.

"Oh, come on Davy, I'm sure you'll be fine!" said Mickey, patting Davy on the shoulder. "Just put the charm on and don't act like a randy Scouse git!"

"Okay, first off, I'm not Scouse, I'm from Manchester, not Liverpool," said Davy. "And I'm certainly not a git!"

"But you're randy?" asked Mickey.

"Oh, all the time," said Davy, winking. Cara sighed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, come off it, it was just a joke!" said Davy.

"Whatever you say, Casanova," said Cara. "Just be careful, Jeff's a rat bastard, don't act out. And for the love of God, I trust you, but please don't let your tongue slip and mention me!"

"Never Cara!" said Davy. "Look, I promise, as a friend and ally to keep my mouth shut."

"Good," said Cara.

"I take it you wanna take the car?" said Mike.

"Well yeah," said Davy, straightening his collar. "If I wanna impress that 'rat bastard,' then I've gotta go in style!"

"I'm not sure driving the Monkeemobile is going in style…" said Peter as a side note, making Cara giggle.

"Well, suppose I'm off then," said Davy, walking to the door. "Wish me luck…I may need it."

"Good luck Davy!" shouted Peter. "If you run into trouble you can give him ten bucks and run like hell!"

"Oh, cause that's what you did, isn't it?" asked Davy before he left, laughing.

Peter bowed his head. "He's right."

"Don't let him bring ya down Pete," said Mike. "I just hope he gets out of there safe and sound."

"Me too," said Cara. "I hope he's smart enough to not do something stupid…"

Davy pulled up to Abigail's—and Jeff's—place and parked the car. When he got out, he fixed his shirt, took a deep breath, and proceeded in. He knocked on the door twice and rocked back and forth nervously as he waited. He didn't even know what Jeff looked like and he was scared. All he could go on was that he would be dwarfed more than he usually was. He heard the door creak open, and he immediately stopped rocking and tried to gain his composure back. Standing in front of him was the biggest, meanest-looking man he had ever seen.

"You Davy?" grunted Jeff.

"Uh, yessir, Davy Jones at your service!" said Davy, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "You must be Jeff, sir, I've heard—uh—a lot about you!" He held out his hand for a shake. Jeff looked at Davy's hand for a moment, skeptical, but then shook it with his own huge one. "Ah, man, tight grip, I'm a musician ya know, I need that hand." Davy laughed nervously.

"If you're gonna date my sister you need to man up a little tiny," said Jeff.

"Hey, don't call me tiny!" said Davy. "Was—was that any better mate?"

"Getting there," said Jeff, wondering what the hell Abigail could possibly see in this little Englishman. "Come in."

"Right," said a terrified Davy. He followed Jeff inside to see Abigail sitting on the couch. "Hey Abigail!" Davy greeted, trying to feel more confident around his girlfriend.

"Hi Davy," said Abigail, with a tone that clearly said, "I'm sorry I had to put you through this load of crap." "Have a seat."

"Not so fast limey, right over here," said Jeff, pointing to the chair next to the couch.

"Ah, right, of course," said Davy, sitting down. "So, how's everybody this morning?" He tried to keep a smile on his face for good measure, but his was starting to hurt his face. He traded unhappy looks with Abigail when Jeff had his back turned.

"Oh, doing…well," said Abigail.

"Davy, have a beer," said Jeff, tossing him a can and taking one of his own.

"Oh, it's very kind of you but I have to drive home—" Jeff gave him a dangerous look. "Oh, but it's just one, right?" He opened the can and took a sip. "Smooth," he said, not so smoothly.

"So, kid, where are you from?" asked Jeff.

"Manchester, England," said Davy after recovering from a sip of the cheap beer. "Came to America a few years back. No regrets."

"My sister said you were a musician," said Jeff. "Ya play anything cool?"

"Well, ya know, I sing, play percussion—"

"What, you a drummer?" said Jeff.

"Well, not exactly," said Davy. "I primarily play the maracas, you see, and—"

"What are ya, a wimp?" said Jeff. "That's not a real instrument! Come on shorty!"

"Jeff, leave him alone," said Abigail. "He sings too."

"No one asked you!" snapped Jeff. Davy was sinking into his chair, wide eyed and shaky. "Kid! Man up!"

"Right, manning up now…" said Davy, sitting straighter. Abigail gave him an apologetic look.

"Look Jeff, his name is 'Davy,' not 'kid'!" snapped Abigail.

"Well he needs his woman to stand up for him!" said Jeff. "That says 'kid' to me! He ain't a man Abigail, what do you see in him."

"I see a man," said Abigail. "Come on Davy, let's go back to the apartment."

"Sounds great Abigail!" said Davy, shooting up and grabbing Abigail's hand. "Really, it's been great Jeff ol' boy but I gotta get out of here!" Before Jeff had a chance to say anything, Davy and Abigail were outside and driving away. Jeff watched them go and noticed something strangely familiar…the car…it looked oddly like the car that he hit the other day that knucklehead was driving. There was something suspicious going on, and he was going to find out.

Back at the apartment, Cara, Mickey, Mike, and Peter were waiting in suspense for Davy. "Uhg, I hope he's doing okay," moaned Cara.

"If I didn't die, I'm sure Davy's fine," said Peter. "If I know anything, he knows how to weasel his way out of a bad situation."

"Let's hope so," said Cara. The four of them looked up when they heard the door opening. In stepped Davy and Abigail. "How'd it go Davy?" asked Cara.

"Oh…the horrors I have seen," said Davy, sitting down. "No one should have to go through what I went through today."

"Did something happen?" asked Mickey.

"Jeff was just being mean," said Abigail, disgusted. "Making jokes about him being short, saying he wasn't man enough for me, he even called him a limey!"

"What an asshat," said Cara. "Davy, I'm so sorry you have to deal with all this."

"Eh, I'll live," said Davy. "There's nothing in the contract that says I have to see him again."

Peter tried not to feel nervous. If Davy was getting it this bad for dating Jeff's sister, what would Jeff do if he found out if Peter and Cara started dating? He'd be dead for sure. "You okay, Peter?" asked Mike, noticing Peter's uneasiness.

"Oh, yeah, I'll live," said Peter. "Hey, Cara, do you need a ride to work?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice," said Cara, getting her things. "See you all in a bit." Peter drove her to work and dropped her off. He watched her walk in the shop, and thought about how he'd eventually have to face Jeff. It wasn't an if anymore—if Davy had to meet Jeff, it was a matter of time before he found everything out. Peter knew that he could treat Cara so much better than Jeff could ever treat another woman, but he just had to face that he was a wimp. With his spirits hurt, he drove off.

When he got back to the apartment, he sought out Davy. "Hey, Davy, you have a second?" he asked.

"Sure Peter, what's on your mind?" asked Davy.

"It's about Cara again," said Peter. "Are you sure me pursuing her is a good idea?"

"Peter, if you're worried about Jeff, yes, he is a scary man, but if you love her enough, trust me, it will be worth it."

"I know, and trust me, there's nothing I want more in the world, but I can't help thinking I'll make a fool of myself."

"Believe me Peter, you do that daily but if Cara loves you back, she'll be too crazy about you to really care," said Davy. "Trust me man, it'll all work out in the end."

"I suppose I have no choice but to trust you," said Peter.

Back at Psychedelic Psycho, Cara was hard at work. "Hey, Bill, I think we're almost out of pipes," she said while taking inventory.

"No sweat, I'll call in for an order," said Bill. "Cara, is there something on your mind?"

"Like what?" asked Cara, putting up new posters.

"You just seem a little distracted, that's all," said Bill. "Need an ear?"

'I'm just not sure how to start," said Cara. "You know how Davy's dating Jeff's sister, Abigail?"

"Yes, I do recall," said Bill.

"Well…Davy had to meet Jeff today," said Cara.

"Ouch," said Bill. "How'd that go?"

"It could've been worse, from what I've heard," said Cara, "but I'm just worried…Jeff's one step closer to finding me out. I don't blame Davy or Abigail, I know I can trust both of them, but I'm still scared."

"Now listen," said Bill. "You have some good friends here, and even though your enemy knows someone who's on the inside, you are safe in their hands. You're a lucky girl."

"I hope you're right," said Cara.

"I can tell there's something else," said Bill, wagging his finger at Cara.

"Well…I'm just afraid everyone else is in danger, that's all," said Cara. Peter. Peter was in danger.

"I just wanna make sure you're doing alright," said Bill, picking up the phone. "I'm gonna call in some more pipes—hang in there and chill out, I think you can use a bit of a break." Cara went over to sit on the stool by the records. Bill was right, her friends were trustworthy, and even though she was scared it didn't mean that anyone was in danger. She looked through the records to put one on the player. She found some Bob Dylan to clear her mind. Sitting back and listening to the music was what she needed; not racking her brains over things that weren't worth racking over.