"Hey! Guys, it's here!" Abigail burst through the front door as soon as Davy opened it, waving a magazine up in the air.
"What is it?" asked Mike.
"The article, with the pictures that we did last week!" said Abigail, sitting down on the couch and opening the magazine to the story on The Monkees. "Come on, let's have a look." Peter, Davy, Mike, Mickey, and Cara crowded around Abigail on the couch. "Do you guys want me to read it?" asked Abigail.
"Well of course!" said Davy. "This is a big step for us as a band, this could get us to places we never even knew existed!"
"Really?" asked Peter. "Like where?"
"Haven't thought about that yet," mumbled Davy. "Go on Abigail, let's hear what John had to say!"
"Ok, listen up guys, here it is!" said Abigail. She started to read:
"Peter Tork, Davy Jones, Michael Nesmith, and George 'Mickey' Michael Dolenz may seem to you like a group of normal young men. They went to school when they were younger, they eat three square meals a day, and do chores around their apartment. However, this group of four guys us far from the ordinary. They, in fact, form a rock and roll band. They call themselves The Monkees, and boy do they do anything but Monkey around! When they played at my sandwich shop, 'Harding's Hoagies' last week, I was surprised to see how much this group of seemingly long-haired weirdoes could rock the socks off the patrons, including me. With Tork on bass, Jones on vocals and assorted percussion, a handsome Nesmith on lead guitar and vocals, and Dolenz on drums and powerful lead vocals, the group, The Monkees, is a dynamic group that works together with great chemistry and pizazz. The music is fantastic too! A modern sound, and each member who took the fronting role (as it switched from Monkee to Monkee) brought something new and exciting to the style. My personal favorite, the unbelievable cutie, Nesmith, for example, was more to folk and country, Jones had a smooth pop, and Dolenz an edgy rock and roll vibe while Peter maintained the silly, goofy bass player. All in all, I recommend this band, this dynamic quartet, to anybody and everybody. I have high hopes that they will be willing to play for me again!"
-Written and Photographed by: John Harding.
"Wow, this is fantastic!" shouted Mike after Abigail finished reading. "I can't believe this is finally happening to us, we're gonna be famous!"
"And it's all thanks to Abigail," said Davy, cheesily nuzzling her, making her giggle.
"Really something!" said Cara. "The pictures came out awesome as well!"
"I like how John's favorite is Mike," snorted Peter.
"Well, we can't all be me," said Davy. "Congratulations Mike, you have a groupie!"
"Oh shut up Davy," said Mike, throwing a pillow at Davy, which hit him square in the face, knocking him sharply to the side into Abigail's chest.
"Well thanks man!" he said coming back up. "And don't worry Mike, you'll get used to getting hit on." Mike made a motion to smack Davy again but gave up when he figured out that it was useless, and the more he got mad at Davy, the more he would bother him about getting hit on my a gay photographer.
"But if he likes Mike, we can get more gigs!" said Mickey, half joking, half serious.
"Oh, guys, let him be," said Cara, trying not to crack up. "I'm so happy for all of you!"
"Thanks Cara," said Peter, trying to suck up to her again. He wasn't sure if that was the right way to go about it, but it was worth a shot. "So it's out everywhere now?"
"Yep!" said Abigail cheerily. "Everywhere! You all are really gonna get some publicity!"
"Man Abigail, how can we thank you?" said Mike.
"Oh, don't," said Abigail, swatting her hand. Cara was also very happy about all of this. The boys really deserved to be known about; they were talented! Everything John said in the article was true and positive, and Cara just knew that only good could come of this.
Jeff was on his regular search for Cara, once again, this time, in a drug store. How could she be so hard to find? He wasn't stupid, but boy was she…yet she seemed like she was being very clever…he was confused. Walking past the magazine isle, he saw something that caught his eye—the headline on the cover read, "New Rock Band Rocks 'Harding's Hoagies'." On the cover was someone who looked like Abigail's boyfriend with a bunch of other guys…He picked it up, and after a moment looking at it, he saw that it was!
Without looking at the other guys, he wildly flipped through the pages to find the story. He read it, and saw that there were more pictures. Aside from Abigail's boyfriend, he recognized someone else…yes, that was it! The wimp from the car crash outside of the head shop! He had no idea those two knew each other, but they were both stupid wimpy idiots, so of course it made sense.
Flipping through more, he saw more pictures; some of Abigail and her boyfriend. Of course; he always forgot his sister was a model. She must have gotten her boyfriend's band a story and a photoshoot for some stupid show they did. More flipping…and then…confusion; realization; rage.
Posing with the loser from the car crash was none other than Cara.
Jeff's eyes widened and his temple twitched. So Abigail did know something! Cara was hiding out at wherever Abigail was going! Where her boyfriend lived with these…these…goofs! Jeff marched right up to the counter and slammed the magazine in front of the cashier.
"How much?" Jeff demanded.
"Uh…fifty cents…" said the cashier, intimidated.
"Right," said Jeff, taking two quarters out of his wallet and slamming that on the counter as well, making the cashier jump again.
"Enjoy sir," said the frightened cashier as he rung Jeff up.
"Oh, I plan to," said Jeff, taking the magazine and walking off, leaving the cashier stunned and confused. Thinking about it, he walked back over to him and opened the magazine to a page with Cara on it. The cashier cowered when Jeff came back. "You seen this chick?" asked Jeff gruffly, pointing at that red-headed whore he called a girlfriend.
"Uh…no sir…I'm sorry?" said the cashier again, trembling and obviously waiting for Jeff to leave.
"S'okay," said Jeff. He walked off without another word. He was finally going to catch the bitch now that he had a lead anyway.
"So…what're we gonna do now?" asked Mickey about an hour later.
"Well, we can't wait for a gig to come around," said Mike. "We have to be active about this you know. Just because we got an article in a popular magazine doesn't mean we're gonna get gigs right away. We have to be active about this gentlemen."
"Yeah, well I dunno about you, but I'm ready to get active," said Davy. He grabbed Abigail's hand. "Come on sweetheart," he said with a wink and the two headed upstairs.
"Ah, come on guys—oh well, I'm going out with this article to find us a job," said Mike. "Mickey, come on."
"But why me?" asked Mickey. "Why not Peter?"
"Remember the last time we brought Pete along to find us a job?" asked Mike. Mickey flinched, obviously remembering something very horrible. "And besides Mick, you're the best at finding us jobs."
"I guess you're right," groaned Mickey. "Peter, behave yourself. See ya Cara." Mike and Mickey left the house and Peter and Cara soon heard a car motor pulling out of the driveway. Once again, it was just the two of them sitting on the couch, alone in the room.
"So…do you wanna do something?" asked Peter after a couple minutes of awkward silence.
"I'd like to," said Cara. "But…didn't the others take the car?"
"We can take the bus?" suggested Peter.
"Well…alright," said Cara. "What do you want to do?"
"Wanna go dancing?" asked Peter, on a whim. After the fact, he wanted to punch himself in the face for the stupid thing he just said. Dancing? Why didn't he just ask her if she wanted to sleep with him then and there? What a dumb question.
"Sounds fun actually," said Cara. "I've never been dancing before."
"Wha—really?" asked Peter, flabbergasted that she'd actually take him up on that.
"Yeah, Jeff never took me out like that of course," said Cara.
"Oh, no I meant that…you'd go dancing with me?" said Peter, still unable to grasp the current situation.
"Of course I would!" said Cara. Because she was freaking crazy about him and would love to go out with a guy who would care about her.
"Wow," said Peter. "Okay, I know a place, let's go!" They walked out of the apartment and over to the bus stop around the corner.
"You seem to know a lot of places," said Cara. "You sure this one doesn't have a crazy obsessed-with-you waitress?"
"Yeah, quite sure," said Peter, laughing it off. She was just being silly, just the way he liked it. The bus pulled up to the stop after a few minutes, and the got on. They paid the gruff-looking male bus driver the fare, and then found their seats in the only place available—the back. "Sorry Cara, I know these aren't quite first class…" said Peter as they sat down, embarrassed.
"Nah," said Cara, shaking her head. "It really doesn't matter, I'm still liable to have fun today, even if it starts in the very back of an old city bus." This warmed Peter's heart—maybe this would be a good night overall. "So where is this place?"
"Bout fifteen minutes down the road," said Peter. "A walk there would take way too long." The seats in the back were very small. Peter had to try very hard not to accidentally brush Cara's arm with his arm, but to do that he needed to be almost halfway off the seat. He wondered if she could hear his heart rate speeding up when he felt her hair brush his shoulder. Boy, could he use some of Davy's confidence right now. He wondered why that never rubbed off on him.
"Peter, are you okay?" asked Cara. "I can scoot over if you're practically hanging off the seat."
Peter looked around and noticed that he was by now a good foot away from her, and was hanging almost all the way into the isle. "Oh, no, it's okay," he said, embarrassed. "I just don't want to crowd you."
"You don't have to worry about crowding me," said Cara. "Get back on the seat, silly." Peter laughed nervously and moved over more on the seat. He was less than an inch away from Cara now…it didn't seem to bother her a bit.
In fact, being close to Peter didn't bother her. She actually rather enjoyed it. It was nice to be physically and mentally close to someone like Peter; she didn't understand why she made him so nervous all the time. Maybe he just needed his personal space more. Either way, it made her feel comfortable.
"Here!" said Peter as the bus came to a stop. He and Cara got off in front of the dance club and walked inside. It was a nice place that included a bar, lights and other decorations, a jukebox blasting all the newest hits, and lots of dancing teenagers and young adults. Cara had never been in a place like this before; she felt left out and odd, but excited at the prospect of a new experience. "Come on Cara, let's get settled in," said Peter, leading her more inside. The song "Twist and Shout" came on, and Peter suddenly dragged her sharply onto the dance floor. "Come on!" he said as he started to dance.
Cara felt silly at first, moving her hips shyly. She wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do. "Am I doing okay?" she asked, nervous.
"Let me show you," said Peter. He grabbed her by the waist and led her. Cara jumped at the sudden touch—it was funny that someone who was so anxious about sitting too close to her on the bus would grab her and start to dance with her. Oh well, she thought. Peter will be Peter! Slowly but surely, she got into the rhythm with Peter's help. He looked ecstatic at the opportunity to be with her like this again. Cara began to come out of her shell, and soon she was dancing very close to Peter, smiling and laughing with him.
"You're getting the hang of it!" Peter shouted over the music.
"I guess I am!" said Cara.
"Having fun?" Peter asked.
"Very much!" said Cara. That song ended, and The Kink's "You Really Got Me" switched right on. The pair danced wildly to that as well, until they were both out of breath and silly.
"Ready for a break?" asked Peter after a few more songs.
"Yeah," said Cara, winded but hyped up.
"Let's sit at the bar, I'll buy you a drink," said Peter. He was so in by now, he could feel it. Only if she said yes…
"Well…I mean, I have money," said Cara.
"Don't worry about it," said Peter. "I'm taking care of you tonight, and remember we got paid for that photoshoot? I have some extra cash."
Cara shrugged. "Oh, alright," she said. "But just one, for now."
"Okay," said Peter. He got the attention of the young-ish female bartender. She was too old to be a patron or be crushing on Peter, so Cara was in the clear. "Two please," said Peter again.
"Here ya go kid," said the bartender with a thick New York accent. She put two glasses of some kind of green fruity-looking drink.
"What's this?" asked Cara, studying the drink.
"Oh some watermelon thing," said Peter. "It's what they give you when you're not sure what you want. I thought it'd be a good way to start off the night."
Cara nodded and took a sip. First came the sweet, fruity watermelon taste…and then…the alcohol. She made a face at the unexpected taste, but liked it otherwise. "You okay?" asked Peter.
"Oh, yeah," said Cara. "I just…never had alcohol before. Jeff never let me."
"Oh," said Peter. "Well, I guess I should've thought about that."
"It's fine," said Cara, taking another sip. When Peter finished his drink, he felt fine, looked fine…but when Cara finished just one drink, she was smiling lazily and wobbling on the chair.
"Uh…Cara? How are you doing?" asked Peter, part amused, part worried.
"Oh, I'm just fiiiiineeee," said Cara, swatting her hand, trying not to fall off the stool.
"Are you sure?" asked Peter. "You're slurring your words."
"I'm just not used to all this…this…crazyyyy stuff yet," said Cara, indeed slurring her words. "It's sooooo good!" She hiccupped loudly. Peter could not believe she was like this after just one drink…
"Want another round?" asked the bartender, amused with Cara.
"Yes!" said Cara, slamming her fists on the table. "You are the most freaking awesome bartender ever…wait…have I met one before? I don't know…"
"Cara, are you sure?" asked Peter as the bartender served two more drinks.
"Oh, Pete, don't be a square," said Cara, sloppily taking a sip of her second drink. Peter decided not to fight…he didn't want to end up ordering her around like Jeff had. He was just going to let her have some fun.
By the end of the night they were back on the bus and smashed. When the bus got back to the apartment, they giggled as they got off, nearly falling down the steps. "Boy, it sure is a damn good thing we didn't have the car, eh?" said Peter. "We'd be dead man, dead!"
"Ha!" said Cara loudly. "Totally dead! But we're not dead…that's good right?"
Peter didn't answer; he just looked into Cara's bloodshot eyes. Without a thought in his drunken mind, he swooped down and kissed her, holding her tight. Cara kissed back, and for a moment, both of them instantly sobered and lost themselves in each other's lips. As the kiss sobered Cara, it intoxicated her as well. But as soon as they broke apart, both of them collapsed into drunken giggles and went back inside the apartment.
Jeff walked the streets with the magazine, Cara's picture open to the front. So far, no one knew who she was, let alone where she was. But he was not going to give up until she was back in his house where the little slut belonged. He approached a guy hanging out on the curb. "Hey, you," he said. The guy looked up. "You seen this chick?" The guy shook his head and without a word left. Jeff was about to run after him when he heard a voice behind him:
"I know where you can find her."
Jeff turned around and saw a small young woman standing behind him with brown hair and big blue eyes. "Where?"
"That's what I know and you to find out," said the girl. "I can help you. She deserves to be put down."
"What's your name?" asked Jeff, intrigued.
"Jane Carson," said the girl. "I know all about Cara.
"Perfect," said Jeff. Now he was going to get his revenge. Cara was going to come back to him now. Most definitely.