Saturday morning, Agent Cupcake came to the house to meet with Howie.

Having the gang member in the house only served to remind the Monkees of Howie's plans for Peter, and the air became tense once again.

Especially when Agent Cupcake left the office and sent a small smile over in Peter's direction. "Well, Peter," he said. "I can't say I would ever peg you for a gang-boss type, but if you do end up deciding to join the gang, I'll do everything I can to help you adjust to the lifestyle."

Peter visibly deflated. "Thanks," he said. "But I don't think I'm going to join."

"Well, let's not make any hasty decisions here," Howie said from behind Agent Cupcake. "You agreed to think it over, and give me an answer at the end of your stay."

Peter glanced at Mike for silent support, and Mike nodded.

"Well," Peter said slowly, turning back to Howie. "I... I've thought it over, and... And I've decided that I'm happy where I am. I just want to play music, with my friends."

"You'd still be able to do that, though," Howie said. "I'm not saying you should give up music, Peg-leg-Pete, I'm just saying you need to be able to provide for yourself, when singing a song just won't do."

"Now, look here," Davy said, eyes flashing dangerously. "There's nothing wrong with being a singer, lots of people make tons of money as singers! Just because you're not a singer doesn't mean you can go bashing the profession as a whole!"

Howie turned to Davy and sighed. "I wasn't trying to bash your profession," he said. "I just happen to know a little bit about the world, and that includes the world of entertainment. You should know as well as anyone, seeing as how you're part of his band, that being a musician can be very hard! Not everyone catches a break. You could be the best singer in the world, and you can live your life as a failure and die penniless and starved. I don't want that to happen to Peter."

"Hey!" Micky said suddenly. "What if we were able to prove that we've got a good thing going with our band?" He suggested. "What if we got a gig somewhere, and you came and listened to us play? Have you ever actually heard us play together?"

"To be honest, no I haven't," Howie said. "But I'm not sure where you would get a gig..."

Agent Cupcake looked around at everyone, then spoke up. "Actually, boss," he said. "There's that fancy party you're going to, the one down in New Milford. Their entertainment just cancelled."

"Really?" Howard asked. "That's great! Peter, if you boys want to play at the dinner party, I'm sure we can get you hired!"

Peter smiled. "Alright," he said. "When's the party?"

"Tonight at nine," Agent Cupcake said. "Want me to make the call?"

They all turned and looked at Mike. Mike suddenly wished he weren't the unofficial leader, at least not right then. Because he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that something wasn't quite right. But Peter looked so desperate and hopeful that with a sigh, Mike gave in.

"Alright," he said. "Well play. But we have to come up with a set list and rehearse from now until the party."

"Deal," Peter said with a smile.

Mike tried to ignore that pesky feeling that something was going to go wrong, and he smiled back. Everything would be fine. It just had to be.

They set up the bandstand without a hitch, they had a successful warm up, and the crowd really seemed to enjoy their music. All in all, everything was going well.

But right when Mike was feeling enthusiastic about the whole thing and chiding himself for feeling so anxious earlier, everything fell to pieces.

They had an interim, the Monkees got down off the bandstand and were allowed to mingle and get something to eat, and they were going to continue playing after about a half-hour.

"Hey, Peter, can I talk to you for a second?" Howie asked, taking a step towards the nearby hallway.

Peter gave a hopeful smile to the others and followed Howie out of the main room. As soon as they were alone, Peter smiled. "What do you think so far?" He asked. "Do you like our music?"

"Oh boy, do I!" Howie said with a grin. "It's great, Peter, I'm surprised you boys are so down on your luck as you are."

"Then... you'll agree to let me stay on with the band?"

"Peter, how many times do I have to say I don't want you to give up your music?" Howie sighed. "You've got a good thing going here, Peg-leg-Pete, I wouldn't ask you to give it up!"

Peter had stopped smiling by now, and he bit his lower lip nervously. "But...?" He prompted.

"But I still don't see how you can make a living out of it," Howie said. "It's a great hobby, Peter, your band is the best I've ever heard, although maybe I'm just prejudiced because you're in it. You should sing more. I haven't heard you take lead once tonight."

"We're doing Auntie Grizelda later," Peter said absently.

"Well, that's good," Howie said. "In the meantime, Peter, I have something to tell you."

"What?" Peter asked, looking up at Howie expectantly.

"This isn't just any old party," Howie said. "This house belongs to Dame Marilda Hampton, owner of the famous Renaldi Ruby, discovered by the Dame's great-grandfather, Tyrone Renaldi. Not only that, but she recently pulled it out of permanent display in the museum of precious stones and gems. It's here tonight, and it's the most vulnerable it's been for the past fifty years!"

Peter felt his hopes sink lower and lower as Howie talked. "You mean," He said. "You're here to pull a heist?"

Howie nodded. "We've been planning it for three months," he said. "Now, Peter, I agreed to have you boys come here and play so that you could show me that this is a good career for you. But I'd like this deal to go both ways, I want you to see me at work. Not only that, I want you to get a chance to help me."

"But, stealing's wrong," Peter said. "I don't want to steal miss Hampton's ruby. It belongs to her, we shouldn't take it!"

"But she doesn't need it," Howie said. "She's a millionaire, she's got loads of money! She wouldn't even miss it if it weren't so famous."

"And what do you need it for?" Peter asked.

Howie blinked. "That's not the point," He said.

"Well, what do you need it for?" Peter demanded. "You can't just steal something for no reason!"

"Well," Howie said. "We could break it up into several smaller rubies, and sell them separately. With the money we could make, we could finance ourselves for an entire year, and we could use the money to shut down the Black Rose gang for good!"

"But I don't want to steal it!" Peter despaired.

"Think about it, Peg-leg-Pete," Howie said. "If we steal this one ruby, we won't need to pull another heist for a year!"

Peter hesitated. Howie took that as a yes.

"Come on," he said. "The ruby is down this way, Just be quiet and do what I tell you, and everything will go off without a hitch."

Peter followed Howie, not sure how he could get out of it now. They walked down the grand hall until they got to the library, and then stepped through the large oak doors.

"Shouldn't there be guards?" Peter asked.

"Naw, we pocketed them last month," Howie said. "This way."

They crept through the dark library until they came to a ladder, and Howie began climbing it.

"You keep look-out," he whispered to Peter. "The Ruby's hidden in a secret place behind one of those books on the top shelf. I'll get it, and come back down."

Peter waited anxiously, watching the doors of the library, until Howie hissed down at him to get his attention. Peter looked up to see Howie smiling.

"Catch," He said, and he dropped something large and red. Peter caught it and looked at the famous Renaldi Ruby. It was beautiful, roughly the size of a tangerine, and cut in such a way that when it caught the light, it sparkled and shone with a red glow.

Peter looked at it in awe as he held it and Howie climbed back down.

"Well?" He said, smiling at Peter. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Peter nodded, then shook his head. "Put it back," he said. "Put it back. We can't take this."

Howie looked surprised. "I can't put it back," he said, taking the ruby and putting it in his pocket. "We've been planning this heist for three months. We've got to go through with it, there's no backing out now."

Howie started walking back towards the oak doors. He opened one door slightly and peered into the hallway. Suddenly, he jumped slightly and gave a low hiss. "I don't believe it!" He said. "That's Tasha Forge!" He shut the door and looked wildly around the room. "Hide!" He whispered, grabbing Peter's arm and rushing down one aisle of books.

They ducked under a desk in a dark corner of the room.

"Who's Tasha Forge?" Peter whispered.

"Master spy and thief," Howie said. "Works for the Black Rose gang! She must be here for the ruby!"

They heard the doors squeak open, and they both stopped whispering and held their breath. They heard the sound of high-heels cross the hardwood floor towards the ladder, then they heard the ladder itself creak for a few moments, and everything was silent. Then they heard a slight gasp, and the ladder creaked again. Peter chanced a glance above the desk, and saw a very pretty woman with red hair tied up in a bun, wearing a black evening dress, climbing down the ladder. He quickly ducked back behind the bookcase when she reached the floor and started to look around. Then they heard her run back out of the library.

As soon as the doors closed, Howie and Peter both let out a deep breath. Then Howie stood up. "This is bad," he said. "This changes everything. I can't have the ruby on me now, Tasha will be trying to find out who has it, and she already suspects me!"

"Then put it back!" Peter urged.

"No," Howie said. "This is our income for the next year, Pete! We can't put it back!"

Then he suddenly gasped.

"What, what is it?!" Peter asked, looking around.

Howie pulled the ruby out of his pocket and thrust it into Peter's hands. "You've got to hold onto it for me," he said.

"I- but, Wha- Huh?" Peter stammered, clutching the ruby tightly in his hands.

"It's the only way," Howie said. "Tasha is refined, elegant, and haughty. She'd never suspect the band of stealing the ruby! At least, I don't think she will. You've gotta take it with you, and hide it in your guitar case or something! Just until the end of the party."

"No," Peter said. "I can't! I can't keep the ruby with me!"

"Peter, you have to!" Howie said. "I'm sorry, I never would have had you do this, but it needs to be done! If Tasha catches me with the ruby, she'll kill me!"

Peter went white. "Alright," he said quietly. "I'll... I'll keep it. But just until the end of the party!"

"Don't worry, Peg-leg-Pete," Howie said, trying to smile confidently. "As long as you keep your head, everything can still go smoothly. Now, I'm going to slip out first, so she doesn't see us together. Then you go back to the boys and try and act casual."

As Howie slipped through the door, Peter nodded, trying to psych himself out that everything was alright.

"Right," he muttered to himself. "Act casual. Hide the ruby. Keep my head. Oh, I'm in trouble..."

He counted to sixty three times, and then he slipped through the door quietly. Nobody was in the hallway, so he walked quickly towards the main room and stepped into the small crowd, trying to find one of the other Monkees.

Finally, he spotted Mike standing a little ways away. That was fortunate. If anyone could help, it would probably be Mike.

He walked casually towards Mike, and tapped him on the shoulder. Mike turned around to see who was tapping him just as Peter found an opening in the crowd and moved to stand in front of Mike. They missed each other.

"Hello?" Mike said. "Huh, that's odd."

Peter tapped him again, then there was another opening and he moved to stand in front of Mike, again, right as Mike turned to see who was tapping him.

"Alright," Mike said. "I don't know who's doing that, but cut it out!"

Peter let out a small sigh and tried again, this time staying where he was.

Mike didn't turn around. "Mike," Peter tried. Mike jumped and turned around.

"Peter!" He said, letting out a deep breath. "Don't do that."

"Mike, I need to tell you something," Peter said.

"Sure Pete, you can tell me anything," Mike said.

Peter took a deep breath, and then he felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned around, but there was no one there. "Oh great, now it's happening to me," Peter said, turning around again.

Mike was standing there, watching the whole thing with an amused expression, but there wasn't anyone else. "Peter, hold still," Mike said. "Micky, now come around."

Micky walked in front of them, grinning. "Did you see that?" He said. "We totally missed each other!"

"Yep, you sure did," Mike said. "Now it's your turn."

"What?" Micky said, not noticing as Davy walked up behind him and tapped his shoulder before walking in front of Micky, right as he turned around.

"Oh, I get it," Micky said. "You saw him come up behind me." He turned around again and paled. "Guys?" He said.

"What?" Mike asked.

Micky gulped. "Where's Davy?" He squeaked.

Mike sighed and put his hand in front of his eyes. "Look down," he said.

Micky glanced down, and sure enough, Davy was standing in front of him. Micky had looked right over his head. "Nice," Davy said sarcastically. "I'm wearing my boots and everything."

"Sorry Davy," Micky said with a snicker. "There's no reason to get short with me."

"Ha ha," Davy said dryly. "Now if you don't mind, I'm in a bad mood, I struck out with this girl just now, and I-"

Micky gasped. "You what!?" He said. "Unbelievable! Unheard of! I can't believe my ears!"

"I stole the Renaldi Ruby," Peter blurted out.

Mike, Micky and Davy all froze, staring at him.

Finally, Mike cleared his throat, and, taking hold of Peter's sleeve, led them backwards into a nearby corner and away from the crowd. "Ehm, uh, what did you just say, Pete?" He asked.

"I said, I said I stole the Renaldi Ruby," Peter said. "Well, I was lookout, and Howie stole it, cause he said he wanted me to see him at work, but then Tasha Forge showed up, and he couldn't have her find it on him, so I said we should put it back, but they were planning this heist for three months, so he gave it to me, and I don't know what to do."

Micky and Davy looked stunned, and Mike took a deep breath, looking a little surprised himself. "Alright," he said. "Do you have it with you now?"

Peter nodded and patted the front pocket of his jeans, a large bulge where the ruby was.

"Wow!" Mike said. "That's gotta be big!"

"It is," Peter said. "Howie said it's enough to finance the gang for an entire year."

"Who's Tasha Forge?" Micky asked.

"A master thief from the Black Rose gang," Peter said. "Howie said she'd kill him if she caught him with the ruby, but that she probably wouldn't suspect the band."

"In that case," Mike said. "Let's get back up on that stage and be the band."

But as they were walking through the crowd to reach the bandstand, Peter saw Tasha Forge walking towards him, pausing to make light conversation with some of the people in her path, but definitely glancing at him every chance she could get.

"Guys!" Peter whispered. "That's her! She's coming!"

"Who's her?" Micky whispered back, looking wildly in every direction but the right one.

"The menacing yet lovely red-head stalking purposefully towards us, I'd wager," Mike said. "Act casual, Peter, she can't know you have it."

Peter put on a convincing smile as Tasha finally reached him. "Hello," she said with an icy smile of her own. "My name is Tasha Forge." She held out a gloved hand with an impressively large diamond ring on one of the fingers, evidently expecting him to take her hand and kiss it. Strange aristocratic people.

"Hi, it's, uh, nice to meet you, Tasha," Peter said, grabbing her hand and shaking it vigorously.

Tasha looked startled, then annoyed, and quickly pulled her hand away. "...Yes," she said. "Anyway, I hear you're here with Harold."

"Well, that was a nice bit of alliteration," Micky noted.

"Actually," Peter said. "I'm here with my band. We're the Monkees."

"Yes, quite," Tasha said, looking them all over in revulsion. "But that's not what I meant. You were only hired today, right? The other band cancelled, and you were recommended for the job by one of the guests."

Peter gulped. "Yes," he said. "That's right."

"That's what I thought," Tasha said. "In fact, you were recommended by Harold Bessetti, if I'm not mistaken."

"It's Howard, actually," Peter said without thinking.

Tasha smiled. "That's right," she said. "Dear Howard! I hear you're his son. Is that true, Peter? Are you his son?"

Peter was visibly shaking by now, and Mike stepped in. "Now look here," he said. "What exactly are you here to say? Because we've got to be on stage, so if that's everything...?"

"Oh, I'm not quite finished," Tasha said with a light little laugh. "What were you doing in the hallway for so long, Peter? Your father was with you wasn't he? And what's that you've got in your pocket?"

"Shameful!" Micky burst suddenly, scowling at Tasha, who took a step backwards. "I am completely and utterly in shock!"

"I beg your pardon!" She said haughtily, glaring at Micky.

"As well you should!" Micky exclaimed. "I've never heard the like in my life! And you, such an elegant, refined lady! You ought to be thrown out! And then banned for life! And after that, you should get pardoned, just so they can ban you a second time and laugh in your face!"

"I say, I have no idea what on earth you're talking about!" Tasha said, looking at Micky in disgust.

"I say, you do!" Micky said. He had been getting louder and louder, and now all the people closest to them were watching in confusion.

"I say," Micky continued. "How dare you! I say, you slimy little conniver! I say, you simpering little witch! I say, you slithering little Delilah! I say, you... you... You Queen of garbage! Of refuse! Of putrescence!"

"Move on, Mick," Mike muttered. He wasn't entirely sure where Micky was going, but he had distracted Tasha from Peter, and he seemed to have captured the attention of everyone in the room.

Tasha seemed to have realized this herself, and she looked around at everyone helplessly. "I don't know what you're talking about," She said to Micky, but her voice had lost its certainty.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Micky exclaimed. "You stole the Renaldi Ruby!"

Everyone gasped, including Peter, Davy and Mike, who thought for sure that Micky had just doomed them. If there was a search, and Peter was found to have the ruby...

"Ha!" Tasha said victoriously. "I stole it! Your little friend here has it in his pocket! He stole it!"

"Shameful!" Micky repeated again, looking at Tasha in disgust. "Absolutely, positively shameful!"

Tasha looked at him in confusion.

Micky glared at her for a few seconds, and then turned to Peter. "Look in your left-hand pocket," he said. "I think you'll find that miss Forge here has planted some evidence on you!"

"What?" Peter said, absolutely terrified. It was a good thing he was playing the role of framed thief, otherwise it would have been very suspicious. "Oh, right!" He said, catching on. Mike and Davy also gave each other half-smiles. This was gold.

Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out the ruby, then he gasped dramatically. "It's the famous Renaldi Ruby!" He said in faux shock. "I've only heard legends about it! I thought it was in the museum of precious stones and gems!"

"Precisely!" Micky exclaimed. "The famous Renaldi ruby! Cut to perfection, so that the light shining on it precisely right, causes it to sparkle! Oh, wait, it needs a bit of polish..." He pulled a handkerchief out of the front pocket of a gentleman standing nearby, and wiped the gem free of any possible fingerprints.

"The light causes it to sparkle!" He said again once he was finished, throwing the handkerchief over his shoulder. "And Miss Tasha Forge, tried to steal it and plant it on this poor boy, this innocent musician!"

"This is ridiculous!" Tasha said. "Why would I steal the Renaldi Ruby!? I have... hundreds of precious stones of my own! I'm even wearing one right now!"

She flashed her diamond ring around at the crowd.

"What, did you steal them too?" Micky accused. "Come on! Who would believe that a simple musician would steal a famous ruby? We only got this job tonight, ask miss Hampton! A stunt like this would take at least three months to plan!"

"That's right," said a man in the audience. "Why would they steal it? The blonde kid didn't even know it was out of the museum."

"Yes, and it's true they were only hired tonight," said miss Hampton. "The other band called yesterday and cancelled."

"Are, are you serious!?" Tasha exclaimed nervously, looking around. "Why, you can check it for fingerprints, I haven't touched it!"

"You're wearing gloves," Mike pointed out. "Of course you haven't touched it."

"And everyone knows, thieves wear gloves," Davy added. "Peter isn't wearing gloves, so he can't possibly be the thief!"

"Hey, he's right," another man said. "No respectable thief would steal a precious gem without gloves! He's innocent!"

"Then that means..." Miss Hampton said. Then she gasped indignantly. "You stole my great-grandfather's ruby!" She shrieked, pointing at Tasha. "Guards! Get her!"

Just as some guards in the corner of the room came charging towards her, Tasha pulled a gun out of her purse. Everyone shrieked and got down on the ground. "Nobody touch me!" She growled desperately, pulling Micky to his feet and using him as a shield from the guards. "Or fuzzy-boy here gets it!" She pointed her gun at Micky's head and cocked it, the loud click echoing in the large room.