By: Chantal R.© 2001
~~~~~
I've been sitting in this plane for what seems like days. I know it's only been a few hours, but damn, how long does it take to get from New York back to California? Who am I kidding? Why should I try to figure out the length of a plane ride, when I'm uncertain about things that I can control? If the pilot right now told me to fly this son of a bitch or die, I'd have to say a prayer and jump. I shouldn't feel sorry for myself. We’re currently on an extended U.S. tour, we've been to places I've dreamed of visiting, and I still feel depressed. I've never left Phyllis and Christian for a long period of time and I'm worried what I may find when I get home. I'm sure she has someone new in her life. I don't expect her to be an angel while I'm away. Being a Monkee definitely helps you get plenty of pussy, and I didn't decline when offered, but I'm feeling guilty because soon I will see my wife and child, and I just have to wonder what our greeting will be. "OUCH!” I can't believe how fucking restless Micky sleeps. If I slept like this, there would be no way I could function throughout the day. "OUCH!" he just kicked me again. Better wake him up before he kills me.
"Micky, come on, wake up!" Slowly Micky opened his eyes.
"Wha, what?"
"You’re kicking me!" Micky rubbed his eyes and loudly yawned.
"Are we home yet?" Mike shook his head.
"Not yet. I feel like we've been on this plane forever."
I continued to talk about nonsense when I realized Micky was asleep on my shoulder. I wish he wouldn't do that. He knows I don't like him touching me. I wonder why? Davy touches me, so does Peter, but not like Micky. It's something I can't describe. What am I saying? Okay, okay, Mike, stop it. Sleep, that's what I need, sleep.
~~~~~
Dreams are realities of your thoughts. Things you wish would happen, but too afraid
to let it.
~~~~~
"Welcome home, Michael. I've been waiting for you. I've missed you so much."
“Yeah, I've missed you too Phy...” Mike's eyes narrowed. It wasn't Phyllis, or was it. The figure approaching him with open arms wasn't his wife. He couldn't make out who this person was. Mike stepped closer. "Who are..." he swallowed. “ Micky?"
“Of course, who else do you think would be greeting you wearing your favorite outfit and cologne." he reached up and kissed him on the lips. "Come on tell me – how was your trip?" he dragged him over to the couch. Confused, Mike sat down to gather his wits and focus on what was happening.
"Mick, you know how the trip was, you were with me."
“Oh, you silly boy, how could I be with you when I've been here taking care of the house and Christian."
“Christian? Where's Phyllis?" Micky was puzzled.
"Phyllis, who?"
“My wife." Micky softly giggled.
"Babe, you must have had a long flight. I'm your wife... well not your conventional wife, but you and I are together. I don't know who this Phyllis is."
Mike loosened his tie and slumped down on the couch. What was going on? Why was Micky at his home, taking care of his son, acting like his wife? And where was she?
“Mike, go upstairs and grab a shower and I’ll be up there later to take care of you." he deeply kissed Mike's lips. "I've got to go see about dinner."
Mike got up and looked in the mirror. "What in the hell is going on here?!"
“IT'S YOUR DREAM MIKE. YOU KNOW THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANT. PHYLLIS IS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND, YOU HAVE A MAN WHO WILL WAIT ON YOU HAND AND FOOT. WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?"
“I don't want Micky. I want my wife. I want my life back!"
“SURE YOU DO. STOP DODGING YOUR TRUE FEELINGS. ACT ON THEM. SHOW MICKY WHAT YOU WANT. I GUARANTEE YOU WON'T REGRET IT."
“Wait! Who are you?!"
“I'M YOU MIKE! I'M YOU!"
What the hell was that? I just drifted off to sleep for a second. Still no closer to L.A. What are we walking there? I'm glad Micky moved away from me. That dream seemed all too real.
"Stewardess, could I use the phone, please?"
“Sure, Mr. Nesmith." I'll call Phyllis. That’ll ease my mind. “Here you go."
Hopefully she'll be awake. What am I saying, it's only a little after 7 p.m. in L.A. Come on answer the phone.
"Hello?"
“Phyllis. it's me."
“Phyllis? This isn't Phyllis?"
“You sound like her, I'm sorry, may I speak to my wife?"
“Wife, Mike, you are funny. Phyllis isn't your wife. I am."
“Micky is that you?"
“Of course. Who else would be answering your phone?"
This isn't funny. What's going on here? I'm awake. Or at least I think I'm awake. Am I? I'll try calling her again.
"Hello?"
“Phyllis?"
“Mike?"
“Yeah, it's me."
"I've been worried. I thought you would be home by now."
"So did I, but I guess we’ll be arriving soon."
“That's great. I've missed you."
“I've missed you too. Give Christian a kiss for me."
“I will."
I feel better now. At least I've talked to Phyllis. I know she’s doing fine. I didn't realize until talking to her how much I truly missed her. I hope that these dreams will fade once I'm home and in her arms.
"ATTENTION, WE WILL BE ARRIVING AT LAX IN TEN MINUTES, PLEASE MAKE SURE YOUR SEATS ARE IN THE UPRIGHT POSITION AND YOUR SEAT BEATS ARE FASTENED. THANK YOU."
Now I have to try and wake up Micky, Peter, and Davy. That should be fun.
"Micky, wake up. We’re about to land."
“Hum..." he moaned. I hate when he does that.
“Come on, wake up! Peter, Davy, get up. We’re home."
“Yay, finally home. We've been on this bloody plane for days.” Davy said.
“Just been hours, Davy.” Peter laughed.
“Days, hours whatever, too bloody long."
It won't be long Phyllis. Mike will be home soon.
~~~~~
If you have lust in your heart for one person, whenever you give yourself to
another, they will know it isn't you they are making love to.
~~~~~
"Mike, Mike slow down...” Phyllis said between gasps of breath.
“What?" he mumbled in her neck.
“You act like you've never had sex with me before." Mike closed his eyes and thrusted deeper into her. His mind wandered, not focusing on her but on someone else.
"Come on Mike, fuck me. I've been waiting for you to make me cum only like I know you can.” Micky kissed his neck down to his chest, teasing him with his tongue.
“Mick, Micky what are you doing? We've never..."
"What do you mean? We've never made love? Are you serious?” Micky sat down on the bed, "This is where you first took me. This is our bed. I can still feel your lips on me. God you were so hot! Why haven't you made love to me like that in so long?"
“I've never, ever had sex with you. I don't know why you’re saying this."
"Come on Michael. Quit stalling.” Micky unzipped his pants. "I want you. And I know you want me. Do I have to beg?"
“Cut it out.” Mike zipped up his pants.
“Cut it out?! I want you to fuck me! For God sakes, you and I are together. I shouldn't have to beg my boyfriend to have sex with me. Please... Mike."
Mike leaned down and softly, then passionately kissed Micky's lips. His mouth felt familiar. Loving and so sweet. He wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close. He hungered for such attention and Micky was giving it all to him.
"Micky...Micky..." he whispered.
“Mike, Mike, what did you call me?" Mike opened his eyes to look down at his wife. He stopped and sat up.
“What's the matter?"
“Nothing…nothing, babe. I guess I've got a lot on my mind." he slid out of bed and went to the bathroom. He looked into the mirror at is reflection.
"NOW ARE YOU READY TO GIVE INTO YOUR FEELINGS?"
“What am I to call you Michael, or Mike?"
“QUIT BEING SARCASTIC! ARE YOU READY TO GIVE INTO YOUR FEELINGS?!"
“Go to hell!"
“Honey, did you say something?” Phyllis called.
“No, babe. I'll be right there." he splashed cold water on his face and went back to the bedroom.
"Maybe we should hold off on this until tomorrow. Besides you just got home and I know you’re exhausted."
He kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks babe. I really appreciate it." Phyllis laid down and pulled the covers up to her chin. What is wrong with me? Of all the thoughts I could possibly have, I'm dreaming of having sex with Micky. This is crazy, insane, that's what it is. Why not think about Leslie? What a terrific lay. The only reason why I'd love to go back to Miami. Those giant, dark curls, that goofy yet sincere smile, those dark eyes, that cute ass...no, no that's not Leslie, that's Micky. This is ridiculous. Sleep, I'm tired, and I need sleep.
~~~~~
If you think what's going on isn't, chances are it is.
~~~~~
It's 2 p.m. Where are they? We should have been rehearsing for over an hour, but no, they have to been late. I swear I feel like I'm the only person in the group that gives a damn. I don't know how we even get along. I guess we do because we are friends. I do love them. Peter is quite a good musician. I have to admit if it weren't for him, Micky learning the drums so fast, and Davy being a decent singer, this group wouldn't have ever gotten off the ground. I can't believe I'm still apart of this whole Monkees thing. I should have been long gone, but I can't bail on them right now, especially with all the money we’re making. I'm creating a lifestyle I know Phyllis and Christian deserve. That's why I'm here, for them, and for making the Monkees the best that we can be. I hear the car pull up. Finally they’re here.
"Sorry it took so long for us to get here. Micky had to stop and feed his face.” Peter said.
“I hadn't eaten since this morning. I was hungry.” Micky whined.
I’m hungry too, Mick.
“Mike, Mike are you ready to rehearse?" Davy asked.
“Huh? Uhh... yeah, I'm ready." he could feel his cock growing in his pants. He took a deep breath and held his guitar in front of his pants.
“How 'bout 'Words'?” Peter suggested. "I'd love to perform that live."
“Groovy.” Micky agreed. Mike sat on the stool and counted off..."1...2...3".
Girl, don't you know every time I see you smiling...
Hurts so bad, cuz we I see you I start tryin...
Tryin' everything to stop, but there's no denying...
Fallin' in love with you girl it's just like dying...
Ohhh... don't walk away
Ohhh... how can make you stay?
Don't turn away.
I can still hear you saying those...
Words that never were true...
spoken to help nobody but you...
Words with lies inside,
but small enough to hide till your playing was through... Ahh
Must he moan like that?
"Mike... something wrong?” Peter asked. Mike looked over at Peter.
"Why?"
"‘Cause you stopped playing.” Davy jumped in.
"Oh, I broke my string."
Mike's the strong one, the leader and he wasn't leading lately. He missed cues and his mind drifted a lot and he often found him staring at him. What was that all about?
"Hey let's take five.” Micky said.
“Cool.” Davy laid down his tambourine and hopped off the stage. "I gotta make a call."
“I'll go get you that string, Mike.” Peter said. That left Mike and Micky alone.
"Wanna hit?” Micky lit up a joint.
“No thanks."
Micky took a deep drag and came to sit down next to Mike. "Is something wrong?"
Has he figured it out?
“Wrong?"
“You've been out of it lately. Even on tour. What's the problem?"
You're the fucking problem!
“There's no problem Mick." Micky touched Mike's shoulder.
"You sure?" Mike moved away.
"Yes, I'm fine." Micky took another drag of the joint.
"So, why have you been staring at me?"
Because I want to fuck you!
“I don't know what you are talking about."
“Mike if there's something I'm doing wrong, let me know okay?"
Mike lightly patted Micky's hand. "Thanks, buddy, but you don't have to worry. You are fine, and so am I."
“Okay.” Micky got up and hopped back behind his drums."
You had the opportunity to tell him what was on your mind, and you said nothing. What is your problem? I can't be having these feelings. I have a wife and kid. I'm satisfied. I don't want or need Micky for anything else than his friendship.
"Here you go Mike.” Peter handed him a package of guitar strings.
“Thanks Pete.” Mike sighed and closed his eyes.
I've got to stop thinking about Micky before this destroys the group or me.
~~~~~
To thy own self be true.
~~~~~
"Great practice guys. The next leg of the tour should be awesome.” Peter smiled.
“You think?” David asked while putting away his maracas.
“Yeah, definitely. What do you think Mike?" Mike unconsciously strummed his guitar.
“Mike?” Peter called. Micky grabbed the microphone.
"MICHAEL!" Mike looked up.
"Huh?"
“What is your problem?” Davy asked.
“Nothing, let's...let's go." Micky joined Peter and Davy.
"We’re worried about you, man. Something's not right.” Micky said. Mike closed his guitar case.
"I'm fine." he headed for the door. "I'll see you all later." Micky ran up to Mike.
"After I get settled at home, I'm coming by your place."
“NOW'S YOUR CHANCE! LET HIM KNOW HOW YOU FEEL!"
“I'm not sure buddy. You know Phyllis and Christian maybe home."
“So. I'd love to see them."
“YOU IDIOT! DON'T BLOW IT!"
“Okay.” Mike sighed.
“See you later.” Micky patted Mike's back. "Let's go guys." Peter and Davy said goodbye to Mike and they left.
So, what do I do? I've been suppressing my feelings for weeks now, even on the show I've controlled myself, but what if we are alone? What will happen? I can't risk losing Micky as a friend; but I can't continue to deny myself what I'm feeling. I gotta deal with it. I have no choice.
~~~~~
Be prepared for the unexpected.
~~~~~
"Honey?” Mike called out to Phyllis. "Phyllis?!" There was no answer. Mike walked in the kitchen. On the refrigerator door was a note.
"Michael, I'll be out for a while. There's food in the oven. Phyllis"
Talk about perfect timing. Now all I have to do is wait for Micky. I hope everything goes well.
"JUST DON'T FUCK IT UP!"
“Thanks Mike. I don't plan on doing that."
“YOU HAVE HIS DICK IN YOUR HANDS! ALL YOU GOT TO DO IS STROKE IT!"
“Shut up!" KNOCK, KNOCK
Oh shit! He's here. Okay, calmly Mike, open the door.
"Hey, Mick, come in." Micky smiled and walked inside. "Where's Phyllis and Christian?"
“She left a note saying she'll be out for a while.”
“Oh.” Micky took a seat. "So what's up?"
“What?"
“What is wrong with you?"
“Nothing.” Mike sat down next to him.
“You're worrying the guys and me. Is it one of us?"
“No... No that's not it." he pulled off his woolhat.
“So what is it?" he badgered.
“It's you!” Mike blurted out.
“Me?" his voice squeaked. "What about me? What did I do?"
“Nothing!"
“You're confusing me."
“JUST DO IT!"
“Shut up!"
“Huh?” Micky said.
"Nothing.” Mike mumbled. Micky scooted away from Mike.
"You are freakin' me out."
“I'm sorry. I don't mean to. I got a lot on my mind, that's all." Micky stood. "Maybe I should come back later with Davy and Peter and try to work out whatever's bothering you."
"YOU ASSHOLE! HE'S GETTING AWAY!"
I can't let him leave, not without him knowing how I feel.
"Micky, listen babe, I'm sorry. It's just...just..."
"Just what?"
Mike slowly approached Micky and laid his hand on his shoulder. "It's just you mean so much to me." he caressed the side of Micky's face. Micky nervously smiled.
"You mean a lot of me too. You're one of my best friends." Mike leaned down to Micky's ear and whispered,
"I mean, you mean so much to me."
The light bulb clicked on in Micky's head. ‘Oh shit what do I do?’ Micky panicked. "Ummm...that's, that's nice Mike. I'm flattered really, but what about Phyllis?"
“What about her?" his eyes traveling up and down Micky's lean body.
"I don't think she'll dig this." Mike slowly inched his lips towards Micky's. "She doesn't have to know." Micky moved his head back, away from Mike.
"Listen man, I like girls. You know that right? I mean, I never gave you any indications I wanted to be with a man?"
“SHUT HIM UP MICHAEL! DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO SHUT HIM UP!"
Mike grabbed Micky's shoulders and pulled him close. His mouth moving closer and closer to Micky's. "Mike, Mike...man stop!” Micky screamed.
‘There I did it. Finally, I have kissed those sexy lips of his. He didn't put up too much of a fight. As a matter of fact, his little protest excited me. I can't believe I have denied myself of this wonderful man.’
Micky pulled away and caught his breath. He quickly wiped his mouth and stared at his best friend in shock. "Are you fuckin' crazy?! Why...how could you do that?!"
"‘Cause, I've been having these feelings for you for some time. Every time you touch me, the way you smile at me, even your laugh turns me on. I want you." Micky opened the front door,
"Listen forget about everything that happened, and we continue being friends, but this will never ever happen. You understand?! This will never happen!"
Mike slammed the door and pushed Micky against it. "Why are you behaving this way?"
“And why are you acting like a mad man? You're married, have a kid, and you want to fuck me! How sick is that?"
Mike grabbed the back of Micky's head and kissed him hard and deep on the lips. Fighting desperately to get away, Micky violently pushed him to the floor. The front door flew open and in ran Christian.
"Daddy, daddy!" Micky took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure.
"What's going on in here?” Phyllis asked.
“Nothing, just had a little disagreement.” Mike stood up and helped Phyllis with the groceries.
“I'll see you...you all later.” Micky kissed Phyllis' cheek and hurried out the door.
“What was that all about?" she asked.
“Nothing dammit! Just get off my goddamn back!" He ran into the bathroom and slammed the door.
“YOU BLEW IT SON! YOU REALLY BLEW IT! SHOTGUN WILL NEVER WANT TO BE AROUND YOU. YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT HIM ALONE!"
“Shut up!” Mike screamed. He held his ears and closed his eyes. Phyllis stood in horror listening to her husband yell at himself. She grabbed Christian's hand and left.
~~~~~
Accept the consequences of your actions.
~~~~~
I received a phone call from Phyllis' mother saying that she and Christian will be staying with them for a while until I get myself together. I didn't realize anything was wrong with me. I hadn't heard from Micky, Peter, or Davy in a few days. We are leaving to continue the tour tomorrow and we need to rehearse. I hope Micky still isn't mad at me. We have a job to do, and we have to put our problems aside and make this tour successful.
RING..."Hello"
"Mike, it's Davy...ah we need you to come to RCA right now."
“Did I miss a scheduled meeting or something?"
“We'll explain once you’re 'ere, but 'urry okay?"
“I'll be there in five minutes.” Worried, Mike hung up and grabbed his guitar and car keys and drove to the studio as fast as he could.
Mike walked inside the RCA Studios carrying his guitar. He wasn't sure what was going on. A million things raced through his head, none of which he could imagine what he was about to walk into. The halls were quiet. That was strange. There was always something going on there. That slightly frightened him.
Davy opened the door to the conference room. "Good you're 'ere. We're in 'ere."
“The conference room, why?"
“We'll explain. Come in."
Mike deeply sighed and followed Davy inside. Burt Schneider, Bob Rafelson, their tour manager, their attorney, Peter, and Micky sat around an oblong table in silence. Davy took a seat next to Micky while Mike stood at the doorway.
“THEY'RE HERE FOR YOUR HANGING, MICHAEL!"
Mike shut his eyes and mumbled, "Shut up!"
“Say something Mike?” Bob asked.
“Uhh...yeah, what's this all about?"
“Have a seat, Mike. We have to tell you something.” Bob politely smiled.
“Okay...” Mike sat his guitar on the floor and sat next to Peter. "So, what's up?"
“Micky has informed us that effective immediately, he will be leaving the show.” Burt said directly.
‘OH SHIT!’
"And he has also told us as of today, he is no longer a member of the Monkees.” Bob finished.
‘OH FUCK!’
"Mick, why?” Mike asked. Micky raised his eyebrow.
"Personal reason." his voice, cold as ice.
“Please, Micky, don't leave us. We're your best friends.” Peter pleaded,
Micky smiled. "Thanks, Pete, and I love all of you, but it's for the best. I'm sure you all can find an out of work drummer in L.A. dying for a gig like this."
“But they won't be Micky Dolenz.” Mike said. "Not to mention, we can't find a replacement for the show. Our fans know and love you. Come on man, don't disappoint them."
Micky looked at his three best friends. His heart began to soften until he thought of the incident earlier that week between he and Mike. "No... no...I'm sorry, but I can't. I love you guys, but I'm over with this." he slowly got up and walked out.
“Excuse me.” Mike got up and hurried out to the hall.
“I hope he can change his mind.” Davy whispered.
“Me too.” Peter agreed.
~~~~~
Parting is such sweet sorrow.
~~~~~
"Mick! Micky wait!” Mike yelled. Micky ignored him and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Micky, wait!" Micky stopped and turned to face Mike.
"What?!"
“Why are you doing this?"
“You gotta ask?"
"If it's about the other day..."
"Yes, it's about the other day. What else?"
“I'm sorry for what happened."
Micky sighed and walked out the door to the parking lot. Mike caught up with him. "Micky, listen man, we need you. You're important to us; not just the group, but as our friend. Please don't let what happened come between our friendship." Micky lowered his eyes.
"I have to go. I can't stay."
“I'll change...okay? I won't do anything that’ll make you uncomfortable. I promise." Micky raised his eyes towards Mike's.
"That's not necessary.” Micky approached him. "You’re a groovy guy. I'm the reason why I'm leaving, not because of what you did." Mike was confused.
"I don't follow."
Micky took Mike's hand and shook it. "This is why I'm leaving." he pulled Mike towards him and kissed him ever so passionately on the lips. Mike returned the kiss, enjoying the sweetness of his lips. Finally Micky pulled away and licked his lips. "That's why." he lovingly patted Mike's chest. "Thanks for everything."
~~~~~
"This is the end. Beautiful friend." ~~The Doors.
~~~~~
So, that was the demise of the Monkees. No controversy, no nothing. To our fans, we just tired of each other and decided to go our separate ways. We didn't even have a formal press conference explaining why we split up. It just happened. We couldn't finish the tour because Peter, Davy, or I didn't have the heart to continue. The show was immediately canceled, but of course the questions were asked: what happened? We didn't exactly escape the press, but the funny thing, I truly don't think Peter or Davy know what really happened to us. No, Micky and I have not seen each other since that day at RCA. I'll never forget it. Maybe one day, I'll look for him and maybe we could... well anyway... that's what really happened to the Monkees.
THE END
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