Authors notes: This chapter has a bit more angst than anything else, but don't worry, there will be more fun, adventure, and Marissa cuteness in the next chapter.
Mike was shocked. What on earth was Agent Cupcake doing here in Connecticut? The last time he'd seen the gang member, he'd been taking a return train to California, to turn important information in to the police.
"What are you doing here?!" Mike demanded.
"Me!?" Agent Cupcake said. "What about you!? I wasn't expecting to ever run into you again!"
"Hey, Mike-and-Ike, who is it?" Howie asked, coming into the hallway. He stopped short when he saw Agent Cupcake, and he glanced nervously towards Mike.
Mike knew what that meant.
"You know Agent Cupcake?" He asked Howie.
Howie looked a little surprised. "You know Agent Cupcake?" He asked back.
Mike nodded. "We ran into him on the train to Abilene," he said.
Howie groaned and put his head in his hands. "Oh, you were the four boys that Agent Pink Rock tried to dupe into carrying the information! I should have known it was too big a coincidence that two groups of four boys rode a train East. When I heard the whole story, I'd hoped that you'd taken a different train, and that someone else had been involved."
"So, wait a minute," Mike said. "If you know all about the train ride, you must be a member of the gang!"
"A member of the gang!" Agent Cupcake exclaimed. "You boys are a magnet for everything you want to stay away from! You're talking to Mr. Best!"
Mike felt the color drain out of his face. "Oh no," he said. "You mean to tell me..."
"That's right, Mike-and-Ike," Howie said. "I'm Mr. Best, head of the Good Guys Gang."
Agent Cupcake seemed to realize he'd created a tense moment, and decided he'd be better off coming back another time.
"I'll just be at the hotel, then," He said to Howie. "Maybe you could give me a call, we'll schedule a meeting."
"Alright," Howie said. "See you later."
"But you seem like such a nice guy!" Mike said, after Agent Cupcake left.
"I am," Howie said, the corners of his mouth turning up. "I'm the best."
"This is no time for jokes, man," Mike implored. "Does Peter know? Wait, I already know the answer to that. Peter has no clue. He'd never heard of the Good Guys Gang until a few days ago. Man, he's gonna be crushed!"
"Now, wait a minute," Howie said defensively. "Why would he be crushed? I know the news'll be a little shocking, I mean, who comes home to visit their family and finds out their dad is a gang leader? But I don't know why it would necessarily have to crush him."
Mike was stunned. "You're a gang leader," he said. "Breaking the law is in your job description! You steal, you lie, you cheat people out of their money!"
"Yeah, but we never kill anyone," Howie said.
"But you have no qualms about beating them up," Mike said, almost sarcastically. "Peter hates violence! We don't even let him watch the Three Stooges because it upsets him so much!"
"I was hoping he'd grown out of that," Howie said thoughtfully.
"Well, he didn't," Mike said. "And he also hates lying, and stealing, and blackmail!" Mike put his hand up to his forehead, trying to calm down and think. "What are we going to do?" He asked, more to himself than to Howie.
"Well, I was hoping to tell him sometime this week," Howie said quietly. "If you think I should keep it a secret..."
"No, that would just make things worse if he were to find out later," Mike said. "Man... Why'd you have to go and start a gang anyway?" He demanded, looking at Howie in a mixture of incredulity and disgust.
"It just sort of happened," Howie said honestly. "It all started as a little extra income here and there, and it just sort of snowballed from there."
"Oh, really?" Mike asked sarcastically. "You just accidentally started a national gang here in this small town in Connecticut?"
"Well, my business is run mostly out of Waterbury," Howie said. "Agent Cupcake is my most trusted colleague, he handles most of the front work. I go down to Waterbury on business trips sometimes, and other times he comes down here, and we do our business that way. Then, he's always got a big name boss that nobody ever sees, that he can always refer to, and I've got an alibi here in Kent. It's like you said, who would suspect that a nice old business man in a small community is really a gang leader? It's ingenious!"
"Well, ingenious or not, it's illegal!" Mike said. "And I don't know how on earth you're going to tell Peter." Another thought struck him. "Do Polly and Marissa know?"
Howie nodded. "Yes," He said. "Polly's known the whole time, we don't keep secrets from each other. And Marissa's known for pretty much her whole life, but she knows how to keep a secret. She's such a smart kid."
Howie smiled, thinking of his smart kid. "Man, focus!" Mike said. "When are you going to tell Peter?"
"Tell me what?" Peter asked innocently, walking into the hallway. Mike and Howie both turned to stare at him. "Uh, hey there, Peter," Mike said with a nervous smile.
Peter smiled, confused. "Hi, Mike," he said. "Who was at the door?"
"Oh, just one of my... associates," Howie said. Glancing at Mike, who looked at him pointedly, Howie nervously cleared his throat. "Um, Peter," he said. "I, uh... I have something I need to tell you."
"Oh, okay," Peter said. "What is it?"
"Well, I'd kind of like to tell you in private," Howie said. "Can you come into my office, please?"
"Sure," Peter said, following Howie into a room down the hall. As Howie closed the door, Mike wasn't sure whether to feel relieved, angry, or frightened. As it was, he felt a mixture of both. He felt angry at Howie for being Mr. Best, he felt relieved that Howie was at least telling Peter the truth, even if it was five years later than he would have liked, and he felt frightened for how Peter would respond to the news.
Going into the kitchen, he decided the others needed to know.
"Hey, man," Micky said as Mike came in and sat down. Polly had gone into another room, leaving Marissa behind with Davy and Micky. The drummer was already working to make Marissa like him the most, she was on his lap, giggling as he bounced her up and down on his knee. "Who was at the door?" He asked absently.
Mike hesitated. He'd already decided to tell them, but deciding to do something and going through with it were two totally different things. Taking a deep breath, he decided to just get it over with.
"Agent Cupcake," He said solemnly.
Micky stopped bouncing Marissa on his knee as both he and Davy stared at Mike in shock.
"What!?" Micky asked as Davy frowned.
"You must be joking!" The younger man exclaimed. "What do you mean, Agent Cupcake!?
"Do you think he followed us!?" Micky asked fearfully.
"Sammy's here!?" Marissa asked, looking up at Mike gleefully before climbing down off Micky's knee. "Yay! He always brings me a present!"
As the little girl ran from the kitchen in search of "Sammy," Mike wondered briefly whether Marissa's presents were all stolen items or purchased from stolen money, but shook that thought away to focus on talking to Davy and Micky.
"Agent Cupcake wasn't here for us," he told them. "He was here for Howie."
"What'd he want with Howie?" Davy asked in bewilderment.
Mike swallowed. "Howie's Mr. Best," He said quickly.
Davy and Micky froze.
"...What?" Davy asked him.
Mike nodded. "He admitted it to me. He's Mr. Best. Said he started the Good Guys Gang as a way to make a little extra money, and it snowballed from there."
"Oh, I get it, you're kidding," Micky said with a nervous chuckle. "That's really funny, man. And here I've been saying you don't joke. That's all it is, right? You're just joking, right? There's no way Howie's Mr. Best. There isn't, right?" He looked at Mike, still smiling, but Mike could tell he was just in denial. "Right?" He squeaked.
Mike shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "But it's true. Peter's step-dad is Mr. Best, and he runs one of the biggest gangs in America."
"Oh boy," Davy said, laying his head down on the table. "Why do things like this always happen to us?"
"I'm beginning to think we all just live on the wrong side of the bed," Micky said. "We've got to be the unluckiest people in the world."
"How'd Peter take it?" Davy asked, noting the blonde's absence.
"I don't know," Mike said. "He didn't overhear me talking to Howie about it, and Howie wanted to tell him in private. They're in the study now."
"Poor Peter," Micky said. "All he wanted to do was come down and see the family. Now this happens..."
Peter stayed in the office with Howie for almost an hour, the other Monkees sat around silently in the kitchen, every now and again, they would glance towards the door that led to the dining room, as the hallway containing the office was beyond that.
Polly had come back in at one point, and had sensed the tension in the room, so she worked on dinner in anxious silence, while Marissa, disappointed that Sammy had left without talking to her, chattered on about anything she could think of, after climbing onto Mike's lap and settling comfortably there.
Finally, Howie came into the room, looking tired.
"Where's Peter?" Micky asked immediately.
Howie sighed. "He went for a walk," he said. "You were right, Mike-and-Ike. I'd hoped he would take it better..."
He looked so genuinely depressed that Mike almost felt sorry for him. But an even more pressing issue was at hand. "Which way did Peter go?" He asked, standing up.
Davy and Micky stood up too, Peter might have lived in Kent for years, but he was liable to get into trouble at the best of times. After a shocking revelation like the one he'd just had... Well, it was best to have someone with him.
"I'm not sure, I didn't follow him," Howie said. "But he probably just went down the street a little ways towards the river. He used to go there whenever he was upset."
Without a word, the three of them left, walking down the street towards the river. Sure enough, Peter sat on the riverbank, staring at the water as it passed.
"Hey, Shotgun," Mike said, sitting down beside him, Micky sitting on the other side, and Davy sitting beside Micky. "How you doing?"
"Fine, all things considering," Peter said with a sigh. "He's Mr. Best, Mike..."
"I know," Mike said. "Found out when Agent Cupcake showed up at the door."
"Oh, that's who it was?" Peter said absently. "Huh, go figure."
Mike glanced at Micky and Davy, who looked back at him. They had expected a different reaction, denial or confusion, maybe even a few tears. Okay, they'd expected a lot of tears. But this was not what they'd expected at all. Peter was staring blankly into the water, his eyes showing a little bit of confusion but mostly a strange indifference.
They slipped into silence, Peter seeming to be in a trance of a sort, every once in awhile, frowning, but mainly just staring. They sat like that for several minutes, each of them wanting to comfort Peter but none of them knowing what to say.
There were a lot of experiences they'd had altogether, there were several situations they could have helped him with, but this was something new. None of them had any experience with suddenly finding out that a family member was a gang boss.
So they all sat there, as time ticked by unbeknownst to them.
"He wants me to quit being a musician," Peter said suddenly, causing quite a reaction among his band mates.
"What!?" Micky exclaimed, jumping up as Davy let out a surprised and angry yell and even Mike pursed his lips, eyes flashing dangerously.
"No, no, it's not like that," Peter said, seeming to come out of his stupor. "I mean, he wants me to... How did he put it... consider my options and start working towards a fall-back career, just in case it doesn't work out."
"A fall-back career!?" Micky demanded. "What fall-back career!?"
"He wants me to start training to take his place," Peter said miserably. "He wants me to join the gang and one day take over running the thing as Mr. Best."
"Oh, Peter..." Micky said, sympathy mixed with incredulity. "That's no life for you!"
"I know," Peter said. "But he doesn't. Don't get me wrong, I love Howie, he's the best kind of dad I could have asked for. But he doesn't understand music. He never did. He supported me, he came to some of my practices, he paid for lessons, he never once complained when I practiced at home, but... he always saw it as a hobby. Something I could do in my free time, not a career choice. Now that I'm older..."
"He wants you to stop goofing off and get a real job," Davy said, nodding in understanding. That part of the problem, at least, was something he could relate to.
"Yeah," Peter said. "Only his idea of a real job is lifting goods off of other people."
"Did you tell him you weren't interested?" Micky asked.
Peter nodded. "Yeah, but I don't think he was convinced. He wants me to give it a shot, at least, before I say no."
"Give it a shot!?" Mike asked in disbelief. "He's talking about breaking the law! He wants you to give the life of crime a shot!?"
"Normally, that's something a parent tells their kid not to do," Micky noted.
Peter shrugged. "I told him I didn't want to do anything illegal, and he said he understood being a little nervous the first couple of times, but he said I would learn to treat it like any other business if I just gave it a chance."
Mike put his head in his hands. "This is unbelievable!" He said. "Any other business?! Does he realize what would happen if you got caught!?"
Peter sighed. "He said he's got contacts everywhere," he said. "He promised he could get me off anything they tried to pin on me."
"Lemme get this straight," Davy said. "Howie wants you to quit the music scene and stay here in Connecticut, so you can learn to be a hardened criminal?"
Peter shook his head. "He wants me to go head the operation in Malibu, using music as a cover to keep the cops off my back."
Everyone stared at him.
"Somehow, I just can't picture that," Davy said.
"I know, me neither," Peter said. "But he wouldn't take no for an answer. Finally, he agreed to let me think about it. I'm supposed to give him an answer before we go. What am I going to do?"
He turned to Mike, who wished he could come up with some kind of answer. But he really had no clue what to do.
"I don't know, Pete," he said honestly. "We can't handle this the same way we handle all our other adventures."
"No kidding," Micky said. "Usually, we go to the police. Can you imagine that report? Excuse me, sir," Micky said, slipping into an impromptu act where he played the citizen and the officer. "Yes," he said in a deep voice. "What can I do for you? Oh, I'd like to make a report," he said, slipping back into citizen mode. "My friend's step-dad is the boss of a national gang, can you come arrest him please?"
Peter groaned and put his face in his hands. He muttered something unintelligible as Mike shot Micky a look. Micky had the decency to look guilty.
"What was that, Peter, I couldn't hear you," Davy said.
Peter looked up. "I don't want the police to arrest Howie," He repeated. "I know he's a criminal and all that, but he's still my dad. I just don't know what to do!"
He plopped his head back into his hands and groaned again.
Mike sighed, putting his hand on Peter's shoulder. "It's alright, Peter," he said. "We'll figure something out."
Peter looked up. "Promise?" He asked.
Mike hesitated as Micky and Davy both looked at him, silently asking him the same thing he was asking himself. Did he dare promise something like that? What if he couldn't deliver?
No. He couldn't let Peter down. He would do whatever it took to help Peter figure this out.
"Cross my heart," He promised. Peter seemed slightly reassured, but as they returned to the house a little while later, Mike couldn't help but feel a foreboding, warning him that it wouldn't be as easy as he thought.
And he didn't even think it would be easy in the first place.
"Oh, Michael Nesmith," he thought to himself. "What have you got yourself into now?"