The Monkees Third Season:
" The Dark Side"
By Donatella DelBono
Episode I: Just another ordinary day at the pad. Four young guys hanging out
with not much else to do, but mindless talk of girls and surfing.
Davy, Micky, Mike, and Peter were probably the luckiest guys in southern
California - though they would most likely disagree. They had no
real
concerns - no real problems. They lived their lives the way they
chose, and nobody tried to stop them. No one seemed to mind that they
were
pretend rock & roll stars instead out getting a college education;
so they all had either very understanding families - or maybe they
were orphans. Even more curious is that the government didn't seem
to notice that there were four healthy young men that had somehow
been overlooked for the draft - very lucky indeed. They lived in
a great
apartment (especially when you consider it's probably their first);
they always scraped up enough rent money, and no one ever starved.
And though they always seemed to lack funds, they each had a wardrobe
filled with the finest designer fashions of the time, and one very
hot car. And even though they were a fairly inexperienced band, they
always managed to get a gig when they needed the money. So, they
shouldn't have any real complaints - life was good. However, their
luck is about
to run out, and it may just be all for the best, because although
they had no major worries, they had no real successes either. You
might
say they were stuck in a bit of a rut, and needed a little inspirational
tug in the right direction. Mikes dream was for his band to make it big. A recording contract
would be a nice start, but the ever elusive stardom was always just
out of reach. What to do? Maybe it was their music - not commercial
enough? No way! Too commercial? Maybe they just weren't good enough.
That's the thought that bothered Mike most. There wasn't much he could
do about that except insist on more rehearsal time. He thought he had
put together the perfect band; first by way of talent, and then by
working on the right image, but now he was having second thoughts.
Oh well, maybe the music needs to be more real - whatever that means.
Mike had been sitting over by the window with his guitar trying to
come up with a new sound, but the lapping of those ocean waves just
kept bringing him back to that beach music. What is it about the beach
that seems to generate that "pop" sound he so desperately tried to
avoid? He contemplated locking himself up in a darkened closet to get
away from it; but it was too nice sitting by that huge picture window
looking out over the surf and sky. 'Wasn't this supposed to be inspirational?'
he thought. Funny, back in Texas, his compositions sounded so different,
so much more alive, so "un-pop". What changed? Was it him, or was there
really something to all this scenery? More likely it was all the distractions in the pad that kept the muse
away. How could anyone concentrate with Davy on the phone day and night
blabbing away to some girl he'd just met. Peter experimenting in the
kitchen with some concoction Mike would be forced to eat at tonight's
meal. And Micky was the worst of all since he never sat still and didn't
seem to know the meaning of the word quiet. Mike sat observing his
noisy roommate. Actually, he was fast asleep on the couch, but he did
leave the TV on loud enough to be heard next door. Mike thoughtfully considered his three friends. The band had been
together now for over two years, and still nothing. Maybe it was
them. One by one he thought about who he could blame for his failure.
Peter
was good on the bass, but not a strong singer. He could play other
instruments too, though, and that was always handy to have around.
Besides, Peter didn't need to sing much anyway. Micky was okay on
the drums, certainly not the best drummer in the world, but passable,
and
he had a great voice that really helped to give the band it's own
sound. Micky could sing anything that Mike wrote, which was more than
Mike
himself could do. Then there was Davy. Mike would feel a lot better
if Davy could play an instrument besides a tambourine, or at least
take the interest to learn. So, that was the band: a bassist who
couldn't sing, a drummer who couldn't drum, and a singer who couldn't
do anything
else. 'I should have been more careful with my choices,' Mike thought.
But these were his friends too, and he wasn't going to replace any
of them now unless they really deserved it. If he wanted to blame
someone it should be himself. He was the one who chose them. Or… maybe
it was his own fault because he wasn't a very good songwriter. 'Enough! Stop! It doesn't make any difference anyway, and it wont
help to try and find someone to blame,' he said to himself as he got
up from his chair to shut off the unwatched TV. He looked over at the
unconscious figure on the couch, and shook his head, "I'm going out
for a walk," he stated to anyone who might care. "Well, don't be too long, Mike - I think dinner will be done soon," came
a half-panicked response from the kitchen. "Whadaya mean 'think'. Will it be done soon, or not?" "Well, you can never tell about these things, Mike" Another shake of his head and Mike opened the front door of the pad
ready to embark on his trek to nowhere, only to be stopped at the threshold
of fresh air by a suspicious looking piece of paper taped to the door.
Before Mike could even comprehend the meaning of the bold black type
he had a very bad feeling. Then he saw the words: "EVICTION NOTICE".
He pulled the paper from its tape and slammed the door so hard that
the walls shook. That was enough to get everyone's attention - even
Micky woke up. A concerned Peter came rushing in from the kitchen "What's
wrong, Mike?" While Davy, sensing trouble, hung up the phone with a quick: "uh-oh,
gotta go." Micky was too startled to say anything, except for a loud: "What?!" With an almost expressionless face, Mike turned the paper over and
held it up for all to see. The letters were big enough to read from
twenty feet away "EVICTION." He walked over to the couch and sat down
just as Micky swung his long legs out of his way, and sat up to read
the finer print over Mike's shoulder. "They can't do that. Can they Mike?" he said. "When was the last time we paid the rent?" Mike asked. "I thought we were only two months behind," Davy answered as he walked
over to the couch. "I think it's more like three," said Peter, and all heads turned to
him. "Well, remember three months ago when we had to fix the car; and
then we had that really big phone bill 'cause Davy called England,
and then there was the doctor bill when Micky got sick, and that party
two weeks ago…" "So we never paid the rent," Mike finished, cutting Peter off before
his list threatened to take the whole evening. "Well, how much money
do we have?" They all emptied their pockets, and collectively their
funds amounted to a puny forty-three dollars and fifty-seven cents
- a bit shy of three months rent. "We can fight this. Can't we Mike?" Micky asked. "With what? We don't have any money, and we haven't had a gig in over
two months." Mike saw the worry in their faces. They had always had
some trouble paying the rent, but they had never been evicted (not
really) - this was serious. He knew they would count on him to find
a solution, since none of them were capable of it. Peter had an idea: "Hey, we could all look for jobs." "Hey, we could look for another place to live." Davy added quickly.
Micky and Peter agreed, and jumped up to look for the newspaper. Mike
wasn't as enthusiastic about the idea. He knew they wouldn't be able
to find anything as cheap as the pad, and they couldn't even afford
that. And even if they did find something, they didn't have the money
to take it. But he didn't want to be the one to burst their bubble,
so he let them look. He left them to scan through the paper, while
he went upstairs to the bedroom to think. Mike closed the door behind him and fell onto his bed sitting upright.
He folded his arms across his chest and looked around the room. His
side of the room was still fairly neat just as he had left it, but
the other end - Micky's end - was a sty. In fact it was such a disaster
that the mess was threatening to encroach on his own neatness. Mike
only shook his head again, as he decided it wasn't important enough
to get upset over. The matter at hand required his immediate attention,
and he couldn't let himself get distracted again by his thoughtless
roommate. 'The matter at hand? Oh yeah - the pad, man, we're gonna loose the
pad,' Mike thought to himself. 'I wonder if the guys will have any
luck finding another place?' He sincerely doubted it. They were lucky
when they found the pad. Mike was still holding the piece of paper
from the door. 'Thirty days to vacate the premises,' he read, 'That's
not a lot of time. Maybe this is a sign…maybe its time to go home…back
to Texas…back to country-western music. Maybe it's time to leave the
band. The guys can stay together if they want. It shouldn't be that
hard to find another guitar player. Hell, this is California - good
musicians grow on trees… if that's true, then how come I couldn't find
any?' That last thought made him angry. Angry with his friends for not being
perfect musicians and angry with himself for not knowing better. He
looked up again at the messy half of the room. They were his friends,
but he had had enough of them. The big brother routine was getting
old. He was tired of taking care of three grown children. He had to
get away from them if he ever wanted something good to happen in his
life. If he were back home in Texas he wouldn't have to worry about
things like rent and noisy roommates. But he would have to worry about
old flames that never really died - that was why he had left in the
first place. Not to mention all the family tension he would have to
put up with. Then again, he could finally eat some real food again
too. Whatever his decision, it would have to be the best thing for
his music - that was his only concern. Mike sat there fantasizing about a new start in Texas... The long-lost outlaw - back in town looking for trouble at the ol'
homestead - striking fear into the hearts of all the souls who dared
to mock him before his retreat into California. "Now they'll pay," he
said. Nez wears all black, all the time, with a big black ten-gallon
hat. All cowboy - a tough born and bred Texan who doesn't take anything
from anyone. He grabs that blonde western, beauty he's dreamed of since
high school, and plants a long, rough kiss on her lips. "That'll show
her who's boss." It was settled. He had to get out of there.
The next morning mike woke still propped up in bed with his arms tensely
folded against his body. Across the room Micky was still sound asleep.
Mike felt a tinge of guilt as he watched him lying in bed. Today he
would have to tell them his decision and they probably won't take it
very well. 'This ain't gonna be pleasant,' he thought to himself. He
didn't want to go downstairs. He wanted to hide, but that wasn't possible.
He would have to face them all sooner or later. So, he reluctantly
got himself out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Peter was already
at the table sipping orange juice. "Mornin' Mike, you're up early." he said with
his usual cheerful grin. "What are you so happy about?" Mike replied. "I don't know." "Did you guys have any luck finding a new place?" "No, but something will happen. I know you'll
think of somthin', Mike." 'Great,' Mike thought, 'They were really counting on me to get them
out of this. How can I disappoint Peter? This is gonna be even harder
then I thought. I should just tell him now and get it over with.' "Peter," Mike started, "I've made a decision". "Oh yeah, Mike?" Peter smiled. "Yeah Pete…I'm goin' back to Texas." There. It was out. He surprised himself with the sadness of his own
voice; he felt so much more positive about this last night. But today
he only felt guilty and selfish. Peters dimpled smile fell as he listened to
Mikes words. He looked down at his empty cereal bowl and quietly
said "Oh." He didn't know
what to say. He was too overwhelmed with disappointment, and too hurt
to know that one of his best friends wanted to leave him. Mike finally broke the silence. "I'm sorry Pete.
It's just that things haven't been going very well lately. I think
maybe it's time to move
on." "But Mike, we hardly even started looking. We'll
find something." "We only have thirty days, Pete." "Is that what it says?" "Yep, that's what it says." "Well, that doesn't mean we shouldn't try, right
Mike?" Mike sighed. It was clear Peter wasn't ready
to give up, so he made him an offer. "If you can find a place for
us to go before we have to leave here, then I'll stay with the band." Peters eyes lit up at that. "You gotta deal Mike!" Peter,
ever the optimist, was always able to look at the bright side no
matter how
dark things got. Mike always envied that quality in him, but he was
a realist, and as such, he was unwilling to close his mind off to what
was going on around him. It may make him depressed, but at least he
got things done. Peter jumped from his seat and got to work. He had less than thirty
days to find a place for all of them to live - the clock was ticking.
He rushed into the downstairs bedroom and proceeded to tear the place
apart. God only knows what he was looking for, but he made enough noise
to wake his roommate. Davy sat up in his bed to glare at Peter through
sleep filled slits. "What
are ya doin' Peter?" "Sorry I woke you, Davy. You have to get up
now. I need your help." "'elp with what?" "You need to go with Micky and find us a new
pad." "An' what will you be doin' while we do that?" "Don't worry, I'm gonna try and find somethin'
too, 'cause if we don't, Mike's gonna leave." "Where's 'e goin'?" "Back to Texas." "Oh...this is more serious than I thought." While Peter rummaged through the drawers, Davy
got out of bed, carefully stepping over all the miscellaneous items
being thrown on the floor,
and made his way upstairs to wake Micky. "I found it!" yelled Peter
to himself. It was an old beaten-up, black address book that had been
replaced years ago. He started to thumb through as he sat down on his
bed. By this time, Mike was gone, deciding to take that walk he started
last night. He didn't want to be around when Davy and Micky got the
bad news, and Peter was sure to tell them as soon as he got the chance.
The next couple of weeks became a frantic search for a place they
could call home. They even went as far as to get part-time jobs to
raise some cash. But every time they found something they could afford
they never had enough time to get enough money together. Things were
starting to look bleak; even Peter's optimism was beginning to wane,
but he wasn't ready to give up, and he decided it was time for the
one last act of desperation - back to that little black book.
The end of the month was drawing near, and that meant that doomsday
was about to befall upon our four boys. Mike had already started packing
his things. Micky went into their shared bedroom, sat on his bed, and
watched Mike pick through the clothes in their closet. Micky was especially
depressed over the situation. He couldn't believe Mike would abandon
them like this in their hour of need. But Mike seemed almost cheerful,
at least for Mike. He was looking forward to a fresh start somewhere
else, and now that the time had finally come, he felt a great burden
being lifted, and it left him in good spirits. That's what hurt Micky
most; the fact that Mike seemed happy to leave. Suddenly he didn't
seem to care what happened to them or the band. Finally, Micky spoke: "Mike, you can't leave," and
that brought Mike out of his trance. "There's nothin' else to do, Mick." Micky looked down at the floor. He wasn't good
at this - expressing how he felt. Peter was good at it - he should
be doing this. Mike stopped
packing long enough to look over at his roommate, It was clear Micky
was having a hard time dealing with this. He walked over to him on
the bed, noticing for the first time that he didn't have to step over
anything. The 'other side of the room' had been cleaned weeks ago,
and it stayed that way. "What happened to the obstacle coarse?" Mike
joked in an effort to lighten the mood. Micky didn't look up. "I don't want you to leave." Mike sat down next
to him on the bed, crossed his arms, and stretched his long legs
out in front of him.
He had been so wrapped up in his own Texas trip, that he hadn't even
realized Micky's attempt at being neater and quieter lately; he smiled
at the gesture though. Micky had always thought he and Mike shared
a special bond together, just like Peter and Davy did, but now he
wasn't sure. Mike was more
like a brother than a roommate, and he had grown to depend on him to
always be there. He realized that maybe he had taken Mike for granted,
and he wished he could make it up to him. He looked over at Mike with
big, sad eyes "I don't want the band to break up." Mike couldn't help thinking how Micky sounded
just like a little boy about to have a tantrum. "The band doesn't have to break up. Just find
a replacement for me." 'God, that sounded cold,' Mike thought. He'd
better say something quick before that tantrum takes place. "Look Mick,
it isn't that bad - you still have Peter and Davy. You guys'll do fine
without me." He knew he was lying, but he couldn't think of anything
else to say. Micky looked as if he were about to cry, but then made
a quick switch over to angry and stormed out of the room. Mike let
out one of his frustrated sighs and shook his head. Not at Micky, but
at himself for not being a little more sensitive to his friends feelings.
He wasn't good at that - Peter was good at that - he should be dealing
with this. Mike never dealt with emotional issues; it just wasn't him. "Mike! Get down here!" Came a shout from below
and Mike hurried down the stairs. "What's wrong?" He looked at the three of them all gathered around.
Peter was beaming with excitement, and if Mike didn't get to him soon
he was sure he would explode - not a pretty sight. He walked over to
the group where Peter was now bouncing in place. Peter couldn't contain
himself any longer, so he just blurted it out: "I called an old friend!" "Yeah…" Mike said. "She was really glad to hear from me." "And…?" Davy tried to get it out of him. "...and she knows of a place we can have really
cheap!" "Yeah?" Micky said, catching some of Peter's
enthusiasm. Mike was a bit more skeptical, especially since
this was coming from Peter. "Where?" he asked. "Back home… in the Village… in New York." Peter
happily offered. "The Village?!!!" Mike screamed, "Greenwich Village?! Are you crazy?!" Everyone's
enthusiasm dropped a few notches, except for Peter's of coarse, who
still thought it was a great idea. "No Mike, why?" "There is no fucking way you're getting me to New York!" Mike
was sounding pretty angry at this point. "Why, Mike? You said you wanted a change." "I said what?! I never said that." "Sure you did, Mike. That's why you're so anxious
to get back to Texas." Mike just stared at Peter in amazement. 'How could he guess that?'
he thought to himself. "The Village is happenin', Mike. Dylan even still plays there - and
besides, you've never even been there. The music scene is a lot hipper
than it is here - and there are hundreds of clubs looking for new bands
all the time. When I played there, I hardly ever went a week without
a gig." True, though he neglected to mention the extremely low pay. "Wow! Really Pete?" asked a surprised Micky, his enthusiasm starting
to build again. He broke the fourth wall and said: "Gosharoonie, The
Monkees in Manhattan!" They all gave Micky a mystified look, not so
much for his choice of words, but they couldn't help wondering who
he was talking to. Davy walked over to the chair by the window and
sat down. He wasn't all that thrilled with the idea either, especially
since he knew Mike would never go for it, and he really didn't feel
like listening to all the pointless persuading. Mike looked at the three of them. Micky was staring at him with so
much expectation, and Peter still wasn't ready to give up. It was all
in his hands, as always; they would go along with whatever he decided.
He knew he was being selfish again. He wasn't thinking of the band
or his friends - but the Village! Come on! True, he had never been
there, but he just couldn't picture himself a part of that scene. It
was so different from southern California, or Texas. But how can he
let his friends down. The least he could do is tell them he'll think
about it. That way he could let them down easy. So, that's what he
did. "O.K. guys, tell ya' what. Why don't we all
sleep on it a few days? No reason we have to decide right now." "Really Mike?" Micky said as he straightened
up with a smile. "O.K. Mike." Peter's dimples re-appeared. "Are you crazy?" Davy turned around in his chair to get a good look
at Mike. "You're gonna think about movin' to New York?" "I said I'd think about it, and I don't want to discuss it anymore
right now." And with that reply, Mike hurried to the door for another
one of those walks - he really needed to think.
'I should have specified what state Peter was
allowed to look in. I never thought he would come up with something
like this. If I turn
him down, it means I'll have to go back on my word - I don't want to
do that, but I don't want to live in New York either. I'm definitely
not the big-city type. On the other hand, Pete's right, it would be
a change of scenery - I just wish it wasn't such a drastic change.
Why couldn't it be someplace like San Francisco - I could dig that.
Poor Micky, he looks like he's about to snap, I think all this stress
is starting to get to him. Ha! If he thinks this is stress, wait till
he gets to New York. What am I saying?!! We're not going to New York!
I just told them I'd think about it so they wouldn't think I was bein'
stubborn and closed-minded - but we're definitely not going! I'm goin'
to Texas. They can go wherever they want. They don't need me to go
with them or tell them what to do. Awe, who 'my kiddin', they wont
go anywhere without me. If I leave, the band will break up, and they
know it - I know it. So why have I been tryin' to deny that? Must be
that selfish streak again. I just don't want to have to deal with this
guilt. Well, if that's it , then it isn't fair to keep their hopes
up. I should just tell them and get it over with…….…. I wonder what
the chicks are like in New York?'
Two days past. Mike hadn't said a word on the subject, and everyone
was afraid to bring it up to him. But they knew he would talk when
he was ready. Meanwhile, Micky was a wreck, he had never been outside
of southern California and so he questioned Peter on the subject every
chance he got, which was whenever Mike wasn't around. Davy wasn't as
excited. He had lived in New York briefly during his Broadway run,
and though he would go if Mike went, he wasn't all that fond of the
place, but anything was better than going back to England. Finally, the day had come. If Mike didn't say anything, they would.
It was just a matter of who, since none of them wanted the task. After
Mike blew up at them at the mere suggestion the other day, they were
all a bit afraid of him. So, they drew straws - Micky lost. He hoped
Mike was in a good mood today. Mike came downstairs to find them at
the kitchen table trying to hide the straws. Mike knew immediately
what they were for, and he smiled to himself in satisfaction as he
sat down to join them. He put on his best poker face, giving away nothing.
They would have to wait for him to say something. Micky was very tense,
he wished Mike wouldn't put him through this. "You know, Pete," Mike started, "when I said
find us a place to live, I kinda thought you would look in California." "You never said that, Mike," Peter said innocently. "I know, Pete - my mistake." "So, what do you think, Mike?" Mike took a long pause and a deep breath. "Well guys, I've given this
a lot of thought and…I think maybe we should all start packin'. We
got nothin' to loose." They all let out that breath they had been holding.
Micky and Peter jumped up and gave Mike a half-joking hug, which he
didn't really appreciate, but he knew they were happy and they couldn't
contain themselves. Then they ran out of the kitchen with frenzied
excitement and into their rooms to pack. The band will stay together
- at least for a little while. Davy remained at the table with Mike. "Aren't you happy with my decision,
Davy?" Mike asked. "I'm just tryin' to figure out what's got into
you." "Well, don't tell anyone, but I really didn't
wanna to go back to Texas." "Oh, really? So, you'd rather go to New York instead?" Davy
said with a little sarcasm. "Who knows Davy, maybe I'll even learn to like it." Mike
answered in the same sarcastic tone. They heard Peter in the next room on the phone
to his friend in New York. Mike got up and moved into the living
room, Davy followed. He
took a seat on the couch as Peter hung up the phone. "Well guys, we
still have a lot to think about and not a lot of time. Mike said. "How we gonna get there? Drive?" Davy asked. "Hey Mick, get down here." Mike yelled. "Yeah,
I guess we can all take turns. It'll be a long trip. We're gonna
need money for gas and
food." "We can probably scrape together enough." Davy
said as Micky slid down the banister to join them. "We don't have to eat very much." Peter said. "What?! What are you talkin' about?" asked Micky
with some alarm. "Savin' money for the trip." Davy said. "Oh." Micky looked a little disappointed at
the thought of rationing food, but he was willing to do what ever
it took. "Now you're all sure you want to do this?" Mike
asked looking at them one by one. "Yeah. What choice do we 'ave?" Davy shrugged. "'Course Mike, I can't wait to go." Peter beamed. No one seemed quite as enthusiastic as Peter, but Davy was right.
They didn't have many options if they wanted to stay together. They
had only five days left before they were forced to leave the pad. Not
a lot of time for such a big move; but they worked hard at packing
up the Monkeemobile, leaving all their non-essentials behind, and hoping
the car would make it cross-country. They even managed to save some
more money so they wouldn't have to starve themselves along the way.
They got an early start on Sunday morning, a whole day early so they
wouldn't have to fight the L.A. traffic out of California. Four long
faces packed themselves into the car. They had been together here for
over two years and it was sad to leave their beach house behind. They
all had some apprehension about leaving. Mike was just hoping he hadn't
made a big mistake, but he didn't want the others to know he was having
second thoughts - it would only upset them more. So, he got behind
the wheel and pointed the car east. Just their luck, it was a rainy,
and unusually chilly February morning for southern California, which
only made their departure even gloomier. The normally bright, sunny
sky was gray with an ominous overcast, and the beach was desolate,
devoid of the surfers and bikini clad teenage girls. Most depressing
was the beach house being pummeled by the rain. It was all such a rare
view, and it wasn't the picture they wanted to remember the place by.
But they took one last look and drove away. No one said a word for a long time. The only sound was the raindrops
hitting the car. Everyone was too depressed and tired to talk. Mike
drove them out of California and out of the storm, which brightened
everyone's spirits, and soon the excitement of the trip and everything
that lay ahead of them replaced their gloom. The enthusiasm started
to take over Peter and Micky again, who were both in the back seat
discussing what awaited them in New York. Mike remained silent behind
the wheel, though he had many questions of his own, but he preferred
to let Micky ask Peter all he needed to know about their new home.
Mike always played that game. It made him look relaxed and in control,
even though on the inside he was as nervous as the others. He never
needed to ask anything if Micky was around, he would ask Peter all
the right questions, and then some, so Mike could afford to look cool
and aloof. It was better that way Mike decided a long time ago. It
only upsets the others if Mike didn't seem relaxed. "So Pete, what's the new pad like?" Micky asked. "I don't know, Micky, but Charlie said it was
big enough for the four of us, and we can rehearse there all we want." "Charlie?" a confused Davy asked from his front seat. "I
thought you said your friend was a bird?" "She is. Anyway, I think she said the place
is a loft." "What's a loft?" Micky asked. "You'll see. The best part is, it's cheap." "How long will it take to get there, Mike?" Micky
had started to run out of questions for Peter. "Micky, I already told you a dozen times - it depends on how many
stops we make." Mike said a little annoyed, then realized he didn't
answer his question. "Five or six days. O.K.?" He snapped. "Sorry, Mike." "It's O.K. Mick, just try to relax." Actually, it was Mike that needed to relax. He was starting to sound
a little tense. Micky slumped back into his seat and began to drift
off. Eventually, Peter and Davy allowed the endless miles to rock them
to sleep as well. Mike finally had some peace and quiet. Time to think: 'What the hell are we doing?! This is a big
mistake - I just know it. What if we can't get any gigs there? What
if the new pad is some
rat-infested warehouse? How am I gonna fit in there? Pete and Davy
already know how to live like New Yorkers, but what am I gonna do there?
And what about Micky? He's never been anyplace without a beach….Oh…maybe
it won't be so bad.' And he began to slip into a New York noire scene
that he had seen in some old movie… This time he was the earthy and streetwise,
but suave and sophisticated New Yorker - all the stereotypes he had
ever heard of rolled-up into
this one imaginary character - except for the Texas accent, of course.
He wears a simple black suit with hat. A private detective working
for a desperate dame who needs to get back her hot diamonds, taken
by a jealous ex-lover. Only she falls for detective Mike, and she falls
hard. He finds her stolen ice after a shoot-out with her ex. Mike takes
a bullet in the arm, but he hardly notices. He grabs the blonde and
plants a long hard kiss on her lips. Turns out, she didn't really want
the diamonds. Just an excuse to hire detective Mike. There are a million
stories in the naked cit… Mike suddenly realized his little escape wasn't very New York at all,
but it was all he could come up with. Well, maybe after a bit of real
experience his fantasies will be more authentic.
And that's how they made it all the way to the east coast: one person
drove while the other three slept so they were wide awake when they
each took their turn at the wheel. They only made brief bathroom (roadside)
and food stops, so their entire journey took only five days. By the
time they reached the New Jersey Turnpike, it was decided that Peter
should do the rest of the driving since he presumably knew his way
around, and Mike could take over navigation. Their first glimpse of the city was a thrilling sight for them all.
Peter hadn't been there for over three years where some of his happiest
times were spent. It was getting late, and they were anxious to get
to their new home before it got dark. They couldn't have chosen a better
time to view their new city. The sun was just starting to set, and
all the glass of the skyscrapers was reflecting pink and orange shades
from the west. Quite a contrast to the morning five days ago. The whole
island of massive buildings looked as if it were floating atop the
Hudson River - a truly awe-inspiring sight, and just as they were trying
to drink up every drop of the majestic view; they were cut off from
the scene by the darkness of the Holland Tunnel - which only seemed
endless. Finally, at the other end, downtown Manhattan
opened up to them, and they were home. After five days of endless
driving - they made it.
Micky was particularly wide-eyed, since he had never seen it before. "Wow,
I can't believe we're here. I've always wanted to see it, and now I'm
here." He had always held a big fascination with buildings. He stuck
his head out of the window and tried to look straight up to get a better
view of the architecture, but Mike grabbed him by his shirt and pulled
him back into the car. "Are you crazy? You'll get your head knocked off by some maniac taxi
driver." Mike was just as impressed with the city, but chose to conceal
his awe; it looked so big and cold he thought - he tried to ignore
the scenery and keep his attention on the street map. "Are you sure you know where you're goin', Pete." Davy
asked. "Sure. I used to live here, remember?" "Well so did I, and I don't know where we are." "We have to get to the Bottom Line on Fourth
Street to meet Charlie. Don't worry - we're almost there. That's
the club where she works.
She's got the keys." As Peter finished his sentence, they had arrived
at their destination. It had just gotten dark, and the streets were
already buzzing. From
the car they could hear the loud new music coming from inside. Peter
got out and quickly disappeared through the small club door. The other
three waited for what seemed like an eternity, but actually it was
only ten minutes - fifteen tops when he finally emerged with a girl
in his arm. They were both laughing and hugging as they walked up to
the car and got in. "Guys, this is Charlie." Peter pointed to introduce
everyone, and she turned to them with a huge smile and said big "hi." They all gave her a big "hi" back, and Peter started the car. "So,
which way?" "We're going to the corner of Hudson and Greenwich," she
said. And with a short drive down a bustling Bleecker street, they
were there.
Peter parked the car on the quiet street, not quite in front of the
building they were headed to, but close enough. They all looked up
at the building as Charlie fumbled with the keys to open the front
door. "It looks like a warehouse." Mike said with
some concern. "It is." Charlie smiled. "Isn't it great? Wait'll you see the inside." They
walked into a small vestibule, too small for all of them to fit into,
and she maneuvered the manual elevator until it was almost level with
the floor. Upon opening the gate, they all piled into a surprisingly
large box. "The elevator's easy to operate," she said. "It just takes
a little getting used to. But there's always the stairs." Mike wasn't looking very happy, Davy didn't seem surprised, and Micky
couldn't wait to get his hands on the elevator controls. Peter was
just happy to see his old friend again, so nothing else really mattered
much to him. He trusted Charlie completely, just as he trusted Mike. "Here we are." she smiled. "Sixth floor." She had a little trouble
with the door "Guess it sticks". They stepped through into a huge rectangular room with sixteen foot,
tin ceilings, and old creaky wood floors. The wall facing them was
nothing but a row of eight huge windows which stretched from the floor
to the ceiling. There was a small kitchen over in the corner hiding
an old brick wall, and a door to its side, presumably the bathroom.
Opposite that was a blank, white wall with two doors and two columns
stuck into it which lined up with the two rows of columns running through
the main space. Toward the back of the room by the front door was an
old wrought-iron spiral staircase (just the kind Micky had gotten so
good at sliding down) that led to a small loft space above. Charlie showed them around and explained all
the details, but Mike was skeptical. The place was great, how could
they possibly afford
this? "Why is it so cheap?" he asked. "Well, there is one little catch…" she said, "No one is really supposed
to be living here." They all looked at each other waiting for her to
explain. "It's a warehouse. The building is only zoned for commercial
use, but don't worry about it - lots of people do it. Just don't get
caught." "Oh great. So you mean we have to live in hiding?" Mike
asked, his annoyance starting to show. "Sort of, but its no big deal - really. There
are two artists and one other band living in the building with you,
and you can make as
much noise as you want - no one cares." "How do you know about this place?" Mike asked. "The owner of the building is my boss - he owns the club too, and
he always likes to help out struggling musicians…So, what do you think?" Peter grabbed her and gave her a kiss "It's great, Charlie." The
others agreed, even Mike had to smile. "Glad you like it. I gotta get back to work. Here's the keys." She
said her goodbyes, gave Peter a kiss on the cheek, and she was gone. Peter looked over at Mike's smiling face. "Well
Mike, is it the new pad?" Mike looked around again and with a quiet laugh
said, "Yeah…yeah … it'll
do." Davy went to pick out a bedroom, while Peter went downstairs to bring
a few things up from the car. Micky went over to the wall of windows
and chose one to open. It was so big and heavy that it had chains on
it connected to counter weights. He looked out and found the long,
narrow fire escape, but decided to sit on the sill and look at the
view from there. Mike went over and did the same at the next window.
They were facing each other, in exactly the same position, like a pair
of bookends, looking out onto the dark street below. Davy came out of one of the rooms to exclaim: "I'll
take this one - who wants to join me?" Mike answered, "Fine with me Davy." Hmm, Mike hadn't thought of it
till now, but this would be the perfect opportunity to get away from
Micky's mess. Micky looked over at Mike with utter shock on his face
as if to say, 'how could you even think of such a thing?' Mike quickly
saw his error. "On second thought Davy…ah, Peter would probably be
more comfortable staying with you." He glanced back at Micky who still
looked a bit hurt at the very idea that Mike no longer wanted him as
his roommate. Mike casually returned his gaze back to the street. Micky
watched as Mike seemed to grow very interested in something. His jaw
dropped and his eyes grew wide with shock. "What's wrong, Mike?" Micky asked. Mike simply pointed to a brightly lit window
across the street, and Micky saw immediately what had grabbed Mikes
attention. "What's she
doing?" "She's cleaning her pad, man." Mike answered
simply. "In the nude?" "Maybe it's hot in there." "Doesn't she care that people can see her?" "I guess New Yorkers don't believe in curtains." They both sat there and stared at the window
across the street. Peter then came into the room and dumped his stuff
on the floor. "Hey guys,
aren't you gonna help?" When they didn't answer, Peter went to see
what was so mesmerizing. He looked out the window and his face took
on the same expression as his two friends. A minute later, Davy came in and joined them, "Wow. Nice view." |