CHAPTER FIFTHTEEN

"HOLLYWOOD"

Michael paced around the living room, the weight of his ambitions pressing harder than ever. He wanted more than fleeting gigs at small clubs; he wanted to make a name for himself, to give Juliana the life she deserved. The Monkees were his dream, but dreams didn't pay the bills—not yet, anyway.

His thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone. Juliana's voice bubbled with excitement on the other end.

"Michael, you have to get a copy of the latest Variety! Or better yet, come over, and I'll show you!"

Michael chuckled, charmed by her energy. "I wouldn't miss an opportunity to see you. Be there in twenty."

Juliana met him at the door, her face glowing with enthusiasm. She pulled him into a hug and then she thrust the magazine into his hands, her finger pointing at an ad circled in red ink.

"MADNESS! Auditions. Folk & Roll Musicians-Singers for acting roles in new TV series. Running Parts for 4 insane boys, age 17-21. Want spirited Ben Frank's types. Have courage to work. Must come down for interview."

Michael read the ad twice, his brow furrowed. "It says actin' roles, Juliana. Sure, Micky's been on TV before, and Davy's done theater and that show in England. But me? I only acted in school plays. And Peter… I don't even know if he's done that much."

Juliana grabbed his hands, her conviction radiating. "They're looking for musicians first. You've got the talent, Michael. Plus, the chemistry you guys have as a group? That's gold. Producers eat that up. You've got to at least try. I can help you practice your lines if it comes to that, and you know Micky and Davy would pitch in too."

Michael felt a flicker of hope. It could be the break they needed. "Alright," he said cautiously. "I'll talk to the guys and see what they think. But what if they don't want us as a group? What if they only want one of us?"

Juliana smiled knowingly. "You won't know until you try. Just go in there, be yourselves, and show them what you've got. Don't overthink it."

Later that evening, Michael gathered the band around the kitchen table. He slapped the magazine down in front of them.

"Guys, Juliana found this ad for a TV show. They're looking for musicians who can act. I think we should try out as a group."

Micky's eyes lit up. "Man, this could be our big break! Yeah, we can do this!"

Davy leaned forward, grinning. "To sing and be on TV again? Count me in!"

Peter hesitated. "But I've never done any acting. What if I blow it?"

Michael put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Juliana says our chemistry as a group is what matters most. Just be yourself. Micky and Davy can give us tips, and Juliana's offered to help us prepare. We've got this."

Peter glanced at the others, their enthusiasm contagious. "I just want to make music with you guys. If you're in, I'm in."

Michael smiled, determination settling in his chest. This was their chance—a crazy, once-in-a-lifetime shot at something big. And he wasn't about to let it slip through their fingers.

Juliana watched from the doorway as Michael and the band dove into preparations. The kitchen buzzed with energy, the hum of guitars and bursts of laughter filling the air. She felt a swell of pride.

"Hollywood doesn't know what's coming," she whispered to herself.

—

The beach house buzzed with nervous energy as Juliana, Stacy, Gina, and Peter's current girlfriend, Willow waited for the boys to return from their big audition. The sound of the surf outside was a stark contrast to the chatter inside, punctuated by Stacy pacing back and forth.

"It's taking so long," Stacy fretted, peering out the window for the hundredth time.

Juliana, perched calmly on the edge of the couch, reassured her. "That's a good sign. It means they're being considered seriously."

Finally, the door burst open, and Michael, Micky, Davy, and Peter rushed in, their faces lit with excitement. The girls sprang to their feet, firing questions all at once.

"How did it go?"

"Do you think you did well?"
"Were they nice?"
"Did they love you?"

Michael raised his hands to quiet them, his expression torn between amazement and exhaustion. "That audition was pure chaos. I swear it looked like every guy between 17 and 21 in California showed up to try out."

Davy shook his head in disbelief. "There must've been close to 500 blokes at the start, but they narrowed it down pretty quick after the first round."

Micky, always the animated one, waved his arms for emphasis. "I've done auditions before, but this was next level. It was like some sort of social experiment."

Gina touched his arm. "I'm sure you aced it."

Peter sat down heavily, looking dazed. "I'll be honest—I was so nervous. They split us all up into different groups. I got to chatting with some of the guys in line, but once we got in front of the producers, my brain turned to mush." Willow squeezed his hand.

Juliana leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "How was it different, Micky?"

"Oh, man," Micky began, shaking his head with a grin. "First off it was two young guys who just sat there, barely saying a word. I figured it was up to me to stand out, so I started pulling faces, twitching my hands, doing impressions of movie stars… Anything to get a reaction. They'd smile now and then, but mostly they just stared. It was nerve-wracking! I even messed around with some Coke bottles they had lying on the table. I moved one and said, 'Checkmate.' Totally ridiculous."

Juliana laughed. "Did they ask about Circus Boy?"

Micky nodded. "Yeah, I tried to explain, but honestly, I think they cared more about how I handled the pressure."

Davy chimed in, clearly still processing his experience. "They asked me all kinds of strange questions, like about my time as a jockey. Then one of them joked about my size, asked if girls like smaller blokes. I didn't know what to say, so I just laughed it off. Then they told me to sing and dance like I was back in Oliver!. I thought they were joking—but nope!" I started a little shuffle and they said, "'Hold it a second, I really think you should have been a jockey.'" Stacy grabbed his hand, indignant, "That's awful! I think you should lodge a complaint."

Davy smiled softly. "Nah, they were just trying to get a sense of my personality."

Michael crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "When I walked in, one guy groaned about my boots—like, seriously? I figured, what do I care what they think about my boots? Then they hit me with, 'What do you think you're doing here?' It clicked—they were deliberately putting me on… just to see if I could improvise my way out of it. They were pretty ruthless, I'll say that for them. After I mumbled some pretty sarcastic reply about bein' there 'cos of some crazy and badly-written advertisement, they just left me alone completely for a while. I was supposed to stand there and shuffle my feet around or twiddle my thumbs or somethin'."

"It was a test and it was up to me to do something about it. So I fooled around with some things they had on the desk and then I flipped it on them. Started asking them questions. Got 'em talkin'. Then they realised I had switched the roles round. I saw them start to relax, then join in the spirit of the thing. Once I figured out they weren't so bad, I just rolled with it."

Peter, still looking uneasy, finally spoke. "I swear, the only reason I got through was because of my face. I was so shocked by what was happening—these guys throwing golf balls around without saying a word—that I think my expressions told the story for me. They must've found it funny or something."

Willow squeezed his hand. "You did better than you think, Peter. Don't sell yourself short."

Peter sighed. "I just don't know what I'd do if the others make it and I don't."

Juliana shook her head firmly. "Don't even think like that. You're part of an amazing group, and anyone with eyes can see it. They'll love you just as much as they love the others."

Michael nodded. "She's right. They asked us back as a group to play and run some scenes tomorrow. We've just got to show them what we've got."

—

The atmosphere in the beach house was heavy with anticipation as Juliana, Stacy, Gina, and Willow waited anxiously for the boys to return from their callbacks. The usually lively space felt oddly still, save for the sound of the waves outside. Stacy kept pacing, biting her nails, while Juliana tried to distract herself by sketching but barely touched the page.

When the door finally opened, the boys shuffled in—not with the excited energy of their last visit, but subdued, their faces unreadable. The girls sprang to their feet, rushing to them with overlapping questions.

"What happened?"
"Did it go okay?"
"Did they like you?"

Michael held up a hand, his face thoughtful. "Well… they let us play as a group, but only for a part of one song."

Micky plopped down onto the couch', "Yeah, then they split us up again and made us do solo songs like everyone else. I went with Johnny B. Goode."

Gina perched beside him, her eyes lighting up. "That's a great choice! You must've blown them away with that—it's such a rocker!"

Micky gave a half-smile. "You'd think, but with these guys, it's hard to tell. They don't give much away."

Juliana turned to Michael, her voice hopeful. "Did you do Papa Gene's Blues?"

Michael nodded, his lips twitching into a brief smile. "I did. It felt good, but like Micky said, they don't show you what they're thinking. They just sat there looking at their papers, so I kept going and did the Beatles, The Night Before. Still no reaction."

Juliana took his hand. "Those songs are so beautiful. I'm sure they loved it."

Davy leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "Well, I gave them my best Where Is Love? from Oliver!."

Stacy's face softened as she grabbed his hand. "You do that song so beautifully—it's one of my favorites."

Peter hesitated, clearing his throat before speaking. "I brought out my banjo and played Cripple Creek. I thought maybe they'd want to see me doing something a little different."

Willow grinned. "That's perfect! It shows off how talented you are with your instruments."

Stacy looked at all of them, frowning. "So why aren't you guys more excited? This sounds like it went well!"

Micky sighed, leaning forward. "After the music part, they cut the group down to eight of us and started making us do scenes. Over and over. Different guys in different roles every time."

Davy nodded, his expression serious. "One time I was the lead in love with the girl, the next I was just the goofy sidekick. They didn't give us much to go on."

Peter added, "Same here. It felt like they were testing different dynamics, but it was confusing. They never had all four of us in a scene together, though."

Michael's jaw tightened. "Exactly. They mixed and matched us, but we never got to perform together as a group. I don't know what they're planning. They could just be lookin' for individuals."

Peter's voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "I'm scared only some of us will get a callback. What if they split us up?"

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Peter's words hanging in the air. Juliana, Stacy, Gina, and Willow exchanged worried glances, searching for the right words to lift their spirits.

Juliana stepped forward, her voice firm but gentle. "Listen, you've done everything you could. You've shown them your talent, your chemistry, and your heart. If they don't see that, it's on them, not you."

Gina nodded, squeezing Micky's shoulder. "Exactly. You're all amazing together—there's no way they can't see that."

Stacy kissed Davy's cheek. "Whatever happens, we're proud of you. All of you."

The boys smiled faintly, but the tension in the room was palpable. Even as the girls tried to console them, an air of uncertainty and dread lingered, casting a shadow over what should have felt like a triumph.

—

The waiting was unbearable. Days turned into weeks with no word, and the weight of silence crushed their initial excitement. The once-vibrant energy of the beach house dulled, replaced by quiet uncertainty. Micky, pacing the living room with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, finally broke the silence.

"Well," he said with a sigh, "guess I'll stick to my college courses. At least architecture's a stable gig, right? Build a few houses, maybe a skyscraper or two. It's not the end of the world."

Davy leaned back against the couch, a wistful look in his eyes. "You know, I do miss being a jockey sometimes. There was something nice about the simplicity of it. Just me, a horse, and the finish line."

Mike sat at the kitchen table, his fingers idly tapping the surface. "Well, if you two are thinking of moving on, I might as well get back to my solo rounds at the clubs. I know a few places still willing to book me."

Peter's voice cracked as he spoke, tears welling in his eyes. "Are we breaking up?"

The room fell silent. Mike looked up sharply, guilt flashing across his face. "No, Pete. No, not yet. But we've got to face facts. If this show doesn't come through, we're not exactly climbing the ladder fast. We all need to make a living somehow."

Peter's tears spilled over. "But we can't give up. Not yet. I need to be in this band with you guys. You're my family. This… this means everything to me."

Micky crossed the room, throwing an arm around Peter's shoulders. "We're not giving up, Pete. We're just... waiting. For that one call. That important call. It could still come."

Davy leaned forward, giving Peter a lopsided grin. "Cheer up, mate. You've still got me as your roommate for a while. I like it here in America, so you're stuck with me."

Peter sniffled and managed a small smile. "Thanks, Davy. That means a lot."

Mike stood, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, Pete, I didn't mean to make it sound like we were callin' it quits. I love this band. You guys… you're like my brothers. I'll try to stay positive, okay?"

Peter's smile widened. "Yeah. You are all my brothers. I don't want to lose that."

Micky chuckled. "Well, now that we've got Pete smiling again, I think this calls for—"

"Group hug!" Peter blurted, stepping forward with his arms out.

The four of them laughed, tension breaking as they pulled each other into a tight embrace. It wasn't much, but in that moment, they felt the bond that had carried them this far. They weren't giving up. Not yet.

Somewhere, they believed, the call was coming. And until then, they had each other.

—

The girls bustled in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and stirring pots, trying to bring some cheer to the gloomy atmosphere that had settled over the beach house. The smell of Texas Chilli and fresh cornbread wafted through the air, but even that couldn't lift the boys' spirits. They sat around the living room, listless, waiting for Micky to get back from his evening class.

The front door creaked open, and Micky stepped in, his face drawn and somber. He dropped his bag on the floor with a heavy thud.

"Well," he began, his voice flat, "we can forget about getting that call."

Everyone froze. The girls rushed over, their hands still dusted with flour. "Why?" Juliana asked, her voice filled with worry.

Micky sighed and sank into the couch. "A buddy of mine at school just showed me the latest Variety. They've announced the cast for the new show."

The room was silent for a moment as the words sank in. Disappointment spread like a wave. The girls hugged their boyfriends, murmuring reassurances.

"There will be other opportunities," Juliana said softly, leaning her head on Michael's shoulder.

"You'll find something even better," Stacy added, her voice trembling.

After a beat, Micky suddenly smirked, breaking the mood. "Oh, yeah… and my friend actually congratulated me on getting into the show."

The room stilled.

"What?" Mike asked, narrowing his eyes.

Micky leaned back with a dramatic pause. "Yeah, he showed me the page, and sure enough, there was my name."

The room erupted.

"Congratulations, Micky!" Gina squealed, throwing her arms around him.

"You did it, man!" Mike said, a grin splitting across his face, reaching to shake his hand.

Davy held out his hand. "Let me see that magazine!"

Micky pulled the folded Variety from his jacket pocket and handed it over. Davy unfolded it carefully, his eyes scanning the page.

"'The casting has been completed on a new hip show about a struggling band,'" Davy read aloud. "'The cast includes Micky Dolenz… David Jones… Michael Nesmith…'"

Davy's voice faltered, and he looked at Peter with a solemn expression. "Oh, Peter…"

Peter's face fell. "No, it's okay," he said quickly, though his voice cracked. "I'm happy for you guys. Really, I am. Congratulations."

Davy held the silence for a beat longer, then grinned mischievously. "I'm just pulling your leg, Pete. It says and Peter Tork."

Chaos erupted.

Peter jumped to his feet, his face lighting up with disbelief and joy. "What?! Are you serious?"

"Yes, Pete!" Davy laughed, holding up the magazine as proof.

The room exploded with cheers, hugs, and a frenzy of jumping around. Juliana grabbed Mike's hand, laughing as they spun in a circle. Micky was hoisted onto Davy and Peter's shoulders, shouting, "We did it! We're in!"

The girls cheered louder, tears of joy in their eyes as they joined the celebration.

This was it. Their big break. The beginning of something incredible. And as they stood there in a chaotic pile of laughter, hugs, and shared dreams, they knew their lives were about to change forever.