"It’s not going to be the same without you, Mike." Davy said with sorrow. He started
to shake Mike’s hand and then pulled him into a bear hug. "Who’s going to watch over all of
us? More importantly, who’ll take your place in the band…" Davy’s thoughts went to all the
gigs they played together. The time Mike and the gang saved him from going back to England,
bto how many times Mike saved the band from breaking up.
Peter was sitting down, looking as if he lost his best friend. Peter thought back on
the time when he almost lost his soul, how Mike not only saved it, but taught him so much
about who Peter really was. After having remained silent for the entire morning, he finally
spoke up. "Hey Mike? This really isn’t good bye, you know? I mean, we’ll see you again,
right?"
Mike sniffed and wiped his face. He smiled at Peter and said, "Of course! When I get a
place in Hollywood I’ll invite you guys there, in fact my first concert there, you’ll be in
the front row." Peter got up and hugged Mike. "Listen Peter, stay out of trouble okay? No
becoming a zombie, or stealing stuff from girls. That only works twice," He took off his
cap and looked at it. "As long as I have this you and I are friends . And nothing can take
that away." He placed the cap back on his head and the rest of the group grabbed his luggage.
They went to the Monkeemobile, threw the luggage in the trunk, and Mike took it to the
airport one last time.
Mike joyously sped through the streets, so many memories tied up to this particularly
awesome car zipped though his mind. He hoped to someday buy an exact copy of it for each of
the band, well of his former band. He had to remind himself that he was no longer a member
of the Monkees. No, he listened to his heart and decided that he could really be something
great, if only he was in Hollywood. If only he was in a position to just cut loose. It wasn’t that the band was actually holding him back, but most of the gigs were of other peoples songs, or for kids who didn’t really appreciate his style.
He finally called a friend who was in a group that played gigs in Hollywood and got a
place to stay. He sold most of his stuff, and now he was off to a new life, a new world and
a new Mike.
Mike was being driven to his new home by his friend Shorty. "The pad isn't much dude,
but it’s a place to park your guitar and play without the neighbors complaining. Don’t touch
my instruments though, or I’ll throw you out. Nobody can touch my stuff." Shorty finally
parked his klunker of a car into a stuffed garage. They got to Shorty’s studio apartment
and dropped the luggage on the floor.
The place was full of various instruments, they looked a bit beaten up, but each seemed
to echo of stories. There were some partitions set up in one corner, which Shorty pointed
to. "That’s the bedrooms. I got the left one, you get the right one. As far as sleeping, I
sleep in the day, but you can play while I sleep. Trust me, you could play a car and I
wouldn’t hear it." He walked Mike around the place, showing him the bathroom and kitchen.
"The Kitchen isn’t much, but neither is my cooking."
"Thanks Shorty. For everything." Mike said as he looked inside the refrigerator. He
heard a car honking it’s horn, in some strange beat.
"That’s my cue man. I got a rehearsal to go to. Ciao Babe." Shorty grabbed a guitar
case and a saxophone case. He exited, stage right, leaving Mike all alone. Mike picked up
some of the papers on the table, and set off looking for his first job.
Mike was wandering about when he came across a restaurant that had a karioke contest,
where the grand prize was $100. Mike stroked his goatee, not much of one at the moment
though, and thought about it. He wasn’t known around here and so he went for it. Needless
to say, he ended up winning. He picked a song that he knew quite well, and before getting
started he said, "All right. Before I start, I’d like some help from you all. I need all
who can to clap like this," and demonstrated. With his audience participating, he started.
Mike was performing, just like he would in a concert, gesturing acting out what he could of
the song, but more importantly, he was on his own. Afterwards, he pocketed the money and
went to other places. He went to a bar, at this point in his life he’s old enough to drink,
and he won another contest. This time, it was $300. He also was met by a woman.
She offered him her business card. She was an agent and very lovely. She asked him if
he had an agent and he said no. "Mike, stick with me and I’ll make you bigger than Elvis."
That night, Mike was in his bed thinking about the offer. He heard Shorty open the door and
Mike got up to greet him. Mike told him about her and Shorty simple said, "Make sure you get
a good contract."
Mike went back to bed thinking, "If I had asked the guys, they would have at least
actually listened to me. They’d actually talk to me about what she said and what she meant
and…" Mike remembered that it was he who left them. And that Shorty wasn’t here to replace
them, but only provide a place to work and sleep.
Morning came and Mike made up two plates of breakfast. One still remained on the table
at noon, a very cold one. "The guys would never have left…" Mike caught himself again and
sighed. He looked at the card in his hand. He looked at it wondering what the future would
be behind it.
BACK AT THE PAD……
Pizza from the night before was reheating in the oven, coffee, was being made, and
long face were served at the table. Micky looked around and commented, "Breakfast should
be ready in a few minutes. You know guys, we still need to talk about a replacement for Mike
."
Davy thought out loud, " I wonder what kind of pad he’s living at. I bet he’s already
made friends, hopefully some of the female persuasion. To think, he’ll become really famous
and have all the women he wants… Lucky guy…"
"I wonder why he hasn’t called us? It’s been a whole day and nothing." Peter mumbled
sadly.
"Guys listen, I know it hurts to think about him not in the group anymore, but do you
think he’d want us all moping about here, not working, or practicing? If he were here, he’d
say that we need to get on with our lives."
"But he’s not here Micky, is he?" countered Peter. "Where are we going to find
another Mike?"
Micky sighed. "Well certainly not around the table, all depressed and sad." He got up
and took out the left over pizza and served everyone. He poured coffee into the cups and
they all dug in. "First thing we need to do is get another person for the band. Then get a
gig. As far as Mike is concerned, he'll call when he has news for us. And guys, when he
calls, we got to sound happy. What kind of friends would we be if we bummed him out, making
him feel bad for trying to be on his own?"
Davy looked at Micky. "You know? You’re right Micky. We wouldn’t be his friends if we held him back from his destiny." Davy stated. "You’re right about getting a replacement, too. We need to hold auditions, after all it’ll be hard to find someone to replace Mike." The hard part was trying to find anyone! Two days later, they got someone who wanted to audition. His name was James and he sang okay and played the guitar. He couldn’t play like Mike and he couldn’t play the keyboard, organ, or piano. He at least could read music notes. He also got the group the first gig as a new era for the Monkees began.
TWO DAYS FROM WHEN WE LEFT MIKE…
Mike was at his new agent’s office. Mike was wearing a suit and tie (Pants too) and
currently talking to her. "Sarah, are you sure about this? I mean a new band?"
"Mike, you need a band and besides, I represent them. They only want work, not fame.
I also have a job which requires a band style act. What’s the big deal anyway?"
Mike sighed, his dream of going solo, and he really meant solo, wasn’t looking very
promising. "It’s only that I was hoping to be on my own. Like Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis
Junior, or Chuck Berry. They didn’t have a ‘band’ attached to their names. I just left a
band and then to get stuck with another one?"
Sarah, nodded in understanding, but when he got down, all sympathy drained from her
soul.. "Listen hon, if you want to make it here, you need to go with the jobs. Got it? You
listen to me, I’ll make you famous, otherwise, you can just go back to your old world and
your old band and boohoo there." She stared hard at him. Mike started to show signs of fear
on his face. Mike started to wonder if he just sold his soul to another form of devil. "Now,
Michael, do you want to work, or not?"
He saw himself signing the contract to the devil and he reluctantly answered, "okay."
That same day, he was practicing with the band. They didn’t have a name of their own,
Sarah was looking up possibilities as they practiced. They started off great, and soon Mike
felt a lot better about this new world of his. He also knew that rehearsals don’t always
match the actual performance. He would just have to wait till the next day to find out how
it would go.
The following day, Mike and his band were riding in a van off to do their first
performance. Sarah was driving and handed Mike the itinerary. "Okay Mike, that’s what you
guys will be singing, okay? It’s important that you stick to this. Okay?" Mike handed the
songs to his Drummer, Jeff, with disgust.
"Are you serious? This is … it’s bubble gum music! I’ll barely be able to actually play
drums. And why did we practice yesterday if we end up playing this dribble?" cried out
Jeff. He passed it along and more groans followed.
"You guys want to go out on your own? Fine, go ahead. But this job is worth a few
grand so don’t complain. Besides, you need some publicity, and this affair will give you all
that. Oh, I have the name for you guys. Mike and the Nezband. Catchy, huh?"
Mike finally spoke up. "NEZ??? Where did you get that at? I don’t like that at all!
That will make it so I’m stuck with a band," he turned to the band, "No offense guys, you
are great, but I want to be on my own."
"All right," She hit the brakes and the van skidded to a halt. "Whoever has a problem
with me, just get out now. I can do better without cry babies." She awaited for a while.
"Well? Men! All talk and no action! Fine, you’ve made your choice so from this point shut up
until it’s time to perform." She went back to driving and the group remained silent.
The affair was a huge party men in tuxedos and women in fancy gowns. The band played
some soft music at first. The host of the party introduced them and Mike walked up to the
Microphone, feeling naked without a guitar and said, "I’d just like to thank you all for
this gi- opportunity for us to play. We have a lovely selection of music for this evening
and I hope you all enjoy it." He nodded to the band and they started. As they played and
Mike sang, he wished he was in the crowd for nobody was really paying attention.
At their second break, Mike talked to the band. "Guys, this music sucks and so does this party. What do you all say to a little improving?" They all nodded emphatically. "What about that third song we went through?"
"You mean I can actually rock on the drums?? I’m game!" responded Jeff.
"Great. Tony, lend me your guitar and you can sing backup. Deal?"
"Well, okay. But I’d like to play something, though." Tony said glumly.
Mike went up to Sarah, holding out a dollar. "Do you have change for a dollar?" Sarah
gave him dimes and nickels and the Mike went to the buffet table , got two cups, one small
and one big. He went to the van, grabbed some tape (electrical tape), place the coin in the
small cup, placed the big one over it, taped them together, and came back to Tony.
"There!" He rattled the makeshift maraca and Tony almost broke out laughing. The band
took their places and Mike came back to the Microphone. "Can I have your attention?" He
waited for a bit. Seeing how only a few looked in his direction, he grabbed the mike from
the stand and walked towards a speaker. Feedback from that move got everyone’s attention.
"Thank you. I said when we started I hoped you would enjoy this music, but it doesn’t seem
like you are. BUT, I do believe you will love this next piece." Tony handed him his guitar.
"I wrote it myself, and it’s called, You Just May Be The One."
Sarah froze as Mike began to play this song that wasn’t on the list. Her eyes widened
as the band joined in. The group were clearly enjoying themselves, especially as Mike
allowed them some solo time on the song. They ended and Mike held his breath. He knew he
made an impact, but was unsure what kind. The host started clapping and the rest of the
crowd followed.
Mike and the Nezband released their collective breaths when the Host called out, "Do
another!" Mike looked at him and smiled. "Another one, all right! Everyone grab a partner,
let all the stuffiness out of those tux’s and dresses. This song is a great number to dosy
doe to. It’s called," and he mustered all his southern accent and roughness in his voice as
he cried out, "Sweet young Thing!!" He sang out his heart and almost skipped a verse when
he saw someone literally yank Sarah from her spot and twirl her around.
He let the band pick out the next few pieces, that varied in styles, from the Turtles,
to the Beatles. The party received a boost in liveliness and at the end of it the Host
congratulated Mike and the Nezband for their… audacity. "You guys are going places. Trust
me!"
He walked away and Sarah looked at the band. "Do you guys know what kind of risk you
were taking? Well? I’ll tell you! It was a big one and YOU!" She pointed to Mike. "YOU,
could have lost out big time! There was a record agent here and he left right after your
first song! At least we didn’t lose the money for this job. I’ll be in the van and I don’t
want to hear a word from you guys when you get in it!" She stormed off like a hurricane,
cleaning people staying clear from her.
"A record guy? Oh man! Did I blow it!" He looked at the band. "I’m really sorry guys."
Tony placed a hand on Mike’s shoulder. "Are you kidding? Look at it this way. None of
us would want to play that stuff Sarah called music for a living! You saved our hides! I say
we celebrate!" And they grabbed a cab after they put their stuff in the van and left Sarah
fuming.
