CHAPTER EIGHT

"LISTEN TO THE BAND"

The warm glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the sheer curtains in Juliana's bedroom, casting a golden hue over the organized chaos. Clothes were strewn across the bed, a pair of strappy kitten heels dangled precariously off a chair, and a transistor radio played softly in the background, the Beatles crooning "Help." Stacy stood in front of the mirror, holding up two dresses for Juliana's opinion.

"Okay," Stacy said, biting her lip as she alternated holding up the dresses. "The red one says, 'I'm bold and confident,' but the blue one says, 'I'm elegant and mysterious.' Which one do you think Davy will like more?"

Juliana, perched cross-legged on the bed and flipping through a makeup palette, smirked. "Knowing Davy? He'll like whichever one you're wearing. That man's completely whipped. But I like the red one—it fits your personality and will have his eyes popping out of his head."

Stacy held the red dress against her body and studied her reflection. The silky fabric shimmered under the soft glow of the vanity lights, accentuating the delicate curve of her neckline. "You think? It does feel a little more..daring.

She twirled in front of the mirror.

"You always look beautiful, Stace," Juliana teased, picking up a mascara wand.

"Yeah, but I like keeping Davy on his toes. I mean, look at him—he's so charming, and the way he talks to me? It's like I'm the only girl in the room." Stacy sighed dreamily, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder. "You know, Julie, when you find the right guy, it's like... everything just clicks."

Juliana laughed softly, shaking her head. "Well, don't hold your breath. My track record with guys isn't exactly stellar."

Stacy turned, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, please. Don't even try that with me. I've seen the way you look at Michael."

Juliana froze, the mascara wand hovering near her lashes. "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Stacy said, plopping onto the bed next to her. "Every time he's around, you get this dreamy, far-off look, like you're trying to read his mind or something."

Juliana groaned, dropping the wand. "Stace, he barely even notices me. "He's so... serious, though. And cool. And smart. He's out there writing songs and chasing his dreams. I don't even think he sees me as anything more than some random kid tagging along with you and Davy."

Stacy rolled her eyes, leaning back on her elbows. "First of all, you are not some random kid. You're gorgeous, the smartest girl I know, artistic and you've got this whole sweet, down-to-earth vibe that Michael would be an idiot not to notice. And second, he's totally noticed you. I've caught him looking at you when he thinks no one's watching."

Juliana's cheeks flushed pink, and she picked at the hem of her yellow t-shirt nervously. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"No, I'm saying it because it's true," Stacy plopped onto the bed beside her. "Trust me, I know Michael. He's not the kind of guy who's obvious about his feelings. He's just... complicated. You know how he is—always deep in thought, like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. But that doesn't mean he's not into you. Just give him time. He's probably trying to figure out how to handle it."

Juliana gave her a small smile, feeling a flicker of hope as she reached for her lipstick. "You're the worst, you know that? Always making me believe things I probably shouldn't."

"Hey, like the song says, that's what friends are for," Stacy said, grabbing a hairbrush. She teased the crown of her hair slightly before pulling it into a loose half-up style. "Now, what are you wearing? Because if you show up in something boring, I'll never forgive you."

Juliana went to her closet and picked up a pale pink cotton sundress with thin straps and a subtle floral print, holding it against her body. The lightweight fabric was perfect for the warm summer evening, and the soft pastel tones complemented her complexion. She grabbed a pair of white strappy sandals from the floor and held them up alongside the dress, tilting her head thoughtfully.

"These work, right? Or should I go with the flats?" she asked, glancing at Stacy.

Stacy, who was busy teasing her hair in the mirror, turned and gave the outfit a quick once-over. "The sandals. Definitely. The white will make the pink in the dress pop, and they're just the right amount of dressy for tonight. Plus, they'll show off your legs!"

Juliana smiled, slipping her feet into the sandals. "You're the fashion expert, so I'll take your word for it. But you'd better not let me trip in these."

"Please," Stacy said with a laugh. "You're graceful enough to pull them off. And if you do trip? Maybe Michael will catch you."

Stacy appraised the dress critically, then nodded. "But you need to accessorize. Maybe those little gold hoop earrings I got for my birthday? I put them and the one's I'm going to wear on your dresser."

"Good idea, thanks Stacy" Juliana said, hopping off the bed to collect them.

Juliana laughed, grabbing her little gold hoop earrings off the dresser. "These? They're simple, but they'll work with the dress, right?"

"Absolutely. Gold hoops go with everything—trust me," Stacy said with a grin.

As Juliana adjusted them in the mirror, a song from the radio drifted into the room—My Girl by The Temptations.

"Perfect timing," Stacy said, swaying to the music. "Now, let's make sure your makeup's as flawless as that dress."

Once they were fully dressed, Stacy stood back, admiring their reflections in the mirror. She grabbed a bottle of perfume from her makeup bag, spritzed it lightly over her neck and wrists, and then tossed it to Juliana with a mischievous grin.

"You have to try this—it drives Davy absolutely wild," she said, winking.

Juliana caught the bottle and examined it. "Chanel No. 5? Fancy, I usually just use my Wild Strawberry Oil. It's my favorite scent." she said with a smile, giving it a light spray and inhaling the delicate floral scent. "Mmm, I like it. Thanks, Stace."

Stacy smirked, leaning closer to adjust a loose strand of Juliana's hair, tucking it back behind her ear with dramatic precision. "Of course. I have to help you capture your crush's attention tonight. Michael won't know what hit him."

Juliana's cheeks flushed pink as she playfully rolled her eyes. "You're terrible, you know that?"

"And you're welcome," Stacy teased, striking a mock superhero pose before grabbing a lipstick from the dresser and tossing it into her bag. "Now, come on, we've got a job to do. Let's go turn some heads."

As Juliana slipped her cardigan over her shoulders, the conversation naturally drifted to the Monkees' performance that night.

"Do you think they're nervous?" Juliana asked, closing her makeup compact and tucking it into her purse.

"Nervous?" Stacy scoffed, spinning her purse strap around her wrist like a lasso. "Not a chance. Davy's been rehearsing so much he's practically singing in his sleep. And Michael? He's been obsessing over the setlist for days, fine-tuning every single note like it's a NASA mission. They're all a little insane about this stuff. But trust me, they're going to blow the roof off that club tonight."

Juliana leaned against the doorframe, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I hope so. They've worked so hard for this. It's about time people start realizing how talented they are."

"They're already starting to," Stacy said with a confident nod. "Davy told me some talent scouts might be there tonight. Big ones. If all goes well, this could be their ticket to the big leagues."

"Talent scouts?" Juliana's eyes widened. "You didn't tell me that! Now I'm nervous for them!"

"Relax," Stacy said with a wave of her hand. "They're going to be fine. Davy thrives under pressure, and Michael… well, he's Michael. That man is cooler under stress than a popsicle in a freezer."

Juliana giggled, shaking her head. "You and your metaphors."

"Hey, I'm just saying, they've got this," Stacy said, linking arms with Juliana as they headed down the stairs. "And so do we. Now, when Michael sees you tonight, remember to smile—subtle, not too big—and maybe give him a little laugh when he says something funny. Even if it's not funny. Just enough to let him know you're listening."

Juliana groaned but couldn't hide her amusement. "You make me sound hopeless like I need a dating coach."

"Not a coach," Stacy said with a sly grin. "A strategist. And trust me, I've got the strategy down. This is foolproof."

"Yeah, right," Juliana muttered, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she followed Stacy out the door.

—

The summer air was warm and thick with the faint scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass. As they walked down the street, the faint hum of a lawnmower drifted through the neighborhood, mingling with the excited chatter between them.

Stacy was already dancing down the street toward the club, "This is going to be so good Julie. Michael has had them rehearsing until they are perfect."

"I wonder if Davy gets annoyed with Michael's perfectionism," Juliana mused, fiddling with the strap of her purse.

Stacy laughed. "Are you kidding? Davy eats that stuff up. He says it keeps them sharp. But don't tell him I told you that—he likes to pretend he's the laid-back one in the group."

Juliana smirked. "And what about Peter? Is he still telling everyone those bizarre riddles?"

"Oh, definitely," Stacy said, rolling her eyes fondly. "Last week he asked Davy, 'If a rooster lays an egg on the top of a roof, which way will it roll?' and Davy almost lost his mind trying to figure it out."

Juliana frowned, thinking. "Wait… roosters don't lay eggs."

"Exactly!" Stacy exclaimed, laughing. "It took Davy a full five minutes to realize that. I swear, Peter does it just to mess with him."

Juliana laughed so hard she had to stop walking for a moment. "I can totally picture that. Poor Davy."

"Oh, don't feel too bad for him," Stacy said with a mischievous glint in her eye. "He got Peter back by hiding his guitar picks for two days. It was chaos."

They turned the corner toward the club, the soft glow of neon lights already visible in the distance. The faint sound of a band warming up drifted through the air, mingling with the buzz of the growing crowd.

Stacy paused, giving Juliana a once-over. "Okay, deep breath. Are you ready for this?"

Juliana straightened her shoulders and nodded, though there was a nervous flutter in her chest. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Good," Stacy said, linking arms with her again. "Because tonight is going to be unforgettable. And who knows—maybe by the end of it, Michael will finally get his act together and ask you to dance."

Juliana smiled, her cheeks flushing at the thought. "And if he doesn't?"

Stacy grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Then we'll have a great time dancing without them. But trust me—he'll notice. Boys like Michael always notice, eventually."

—

The Monkees were on fire that night. Vincent Van GoGo, a small but buzzing club in the heart of Hollywood, thrummed with life. Fans crowded every corner of the room, a sea of eager faces drawn to the band that had been quietly but steadily carving out a name for themselves. Mike had worked tirelessly to land this gig, and now, under the kaleidoscope of stage lights, it was paying off in spades.

The moment they hit the stage, the crowd erupted, their cheers blending with the vibrant pulse of the bass. Micky bounded forward, gripping the mic with his trademark grin. "Anyone here tonight who doesn't like having fun?" he quipped. A playful boo rose from the crowd, followed by laughter. "Good," he added, "because we're all about fun—and maybe a little noise!"

Davy, ever the consummate showman, wasted no time turning on his charm. Flashing his signature grin, he winked at a group of girls near the stage. "Ladies," he crooned with an exaggerated bow, "don't all faint at once." Their giggles and cheers nearly drowned out the opening chords of the next song.

Peter, lost in his element, was a picture of quiet joy. His fingers danced across the keys with effortless precision, his whole body swaying to the rhythm. Meanwhile, Juliana couldn't tear her eyes away from Michael.

He stood slightly off-center, his guitar slung low as his long fingers moved deftly over the strings. His brow furrowed in quiet concentration, every chord deliberate and precise. The stage lights cast shadows that danced across his face, highlighting his chiseled features and lending him an enigmatic air. His voice, smooth and rich, carried through the room with a resonance that seemed to settle directly in Juliana's chest. Every lyric felt personal, as though it was meant for her alone, and she found her pulse quickening with every note.

At one point, Michael's gaze swept over the crowd, landing on Juliana. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments, but it was enough to send a shiver down her spine. The corners of his mouth quirked upward in a subtle, almost mischievous smile before he added a quick wink. Her cheeks flushed, her breath hitching as she struggled to suppress the giddy smile threatening to bloom on her face. Did he feel it too? The thought spiraled in her mind, leaving her lightheaded with possibility.

Next to her, Stacy was completely engrossed, bouncing to the beat with her arms raised high. "They're on another level tonight!" she shouted over the music, her face glowing with excitement.

Juliana nodded, her voice catching. "It's like... the music is alive," she murmured, her eyes never leaving Michael.

Stacy glanced at her, a knowing grin spreading across her face. "Or maybe it's just Mike you're feeling, huh?" she teased, nudging Juliana's arm.

Juliana laughed nervously, brushing off the comment, but her flushed cheeks betrayed her. Stacy wasn't wrong—Michael's presence on stage was magnetic, and it wasn't just the music pulling her in.

The band fed off the energy of the crowd, each song building on the last. Micky darted around the stage, his antics earning raucous laughter and applause. Davy turned the charm up to eleven, soaking in the adoration of the front row. Peter's quiet joy radiated as his hands moved effortlessly, lost in the rhythm. And Michael, steady and composed, anchored the group with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and the crowd couldn't get enough.

By the time they launched into their explosive finale, the audience was on their feet, clapping and cheering for more. The final chord hung in the air like a spark before the applause surged to a roar. The Monkees exchanged wide grins, their exhilaration palpable as they basked in the crowd's adoration.

Backstage, the club manager greeted them with a wide grin, his arms crossed in approval. "Gentlemen," he said, his voice brimming with admiration, "that was one hell of a show."

"Only the best for Hollywood," Davy replied smoothly, his grin as charming as ever.

Micky clapped him on the back, laughing. "Yeah, we like to set the bar high."

The manager nodded, his enthusiasm uncontainable. "Well, whatever you're doing, it's working. The crowd loved you. Let's talk about booking you for bigger venues—maybe even a showcase. You've got something special."

Peter's usual quiet demeanor gave way to a rare moment of pride as he beamed. "We just want to keep sharing the music," he said sincerely.

Michael, standing slightly apart, gave a small, appreciative nod. He wasn't one for big displays, but the manager's words settled deep within him. This was more than just another gig—it was validation, a step forward. His gaze flicked toward the edge of the stage, where Juliana stood, her applause lingering even as the crowd began to disperse. Their eyes met again, and for a moment, the noise and chaos of the room faded away.

"Michael," Juliana, smiling broadly, said softly when she caught him alone backstage later. Her voice was hesitant but warm. "You were amazing tonight."

He tilted his hat back slightly, offering her a crooked smile. "Thanks. That means a lot, comin' from you."

Her cheeks flushed as she took a small step closer. "You have this… presence. Like you're telling a story with every song."

His lips curved into a half-smile, a quiet warmth lighting his eyes. "Guess I just hope people are listenin'."

"I was," she replied quickly, her voice barely a whisper. "I always do."

The weight of her words hung between them, charged with unspoken meaning. Michael opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Peter reappeared, calling for Juliana with a playful grin and dragging her away for a dance.

But Juliana's glance lingered, her eyes meeting his one last time, and Michael found himself replaying her words as the night stretched on. It wasn't just the music that had made the evening unforgettable—it was her.

Beneath his steady exterior, Michael felt the faintest crack in his usual guardedness. There was something about Juliana that was impossible to ignore—her curiosity, her spark, the way she seemed to soak in the world with the same intensity he reserved for his music. She wasn't just an observer of life; she was a participant, vibrant and alive in a way that resonated with him on a level he couldn't quite articulate.

And though he was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, the pull he felt toward her was undeniable. Like a melody that stayed with him long after the song had ended, she was there—in his thoughts, in the spaces between the music, in the quiet moments when the world fell away.