"My life will be changed from now on," Peter thought to himself. The Monkees had just learned they would have an actual record deal.

"Just think," Micky sighed, "no more searching for the perfect job. We've made it, guys."

There was some slight sniffling coming from the middle of their trendy beach house. "Hey, Pete, what's the matter?" Mike inquired.

"It's just that we've finally made it," Peter sobbed.

"Peter, you're supposed to be happy about that. It's what we've aimed for!" Davy piped up. He was thoroughly confused by Peter's emotional outburst but not surprised by it. Davy was excited about the deal and so were the others, except for Peter it seemed.

"Hey, man, we're gonna make an album. We'll be famous!" Mike exclaimed.

Peter continued to sniffle. "That's what I'm worried about."

"What do you mean?" Micky wondered, moving closer to his pal.

"When we're famous, I'm just worried that we'll become different people. I'm scared they'll take away our true selves."

Mike and Davy joined Micky in a semi-circle around Peter, who was sitting on an orange floor pillow.

"I think I understand now," Mike, always the thinker, the leader, said quietly. "Living in this beach house together has given us our independence. We've been friends for a long time because of a band we started by ourselves." In conclusion, Mike added, "I think what Peter means is that he doesn't want anyone to take that away from us."

"But, Peter," Davy soothed, "you have to remember what we've worked so hard for this whole time. Remember all the parties we've played at? Remember all the scams that have been thrown at us? For once, we have something real - an achievement."

Peter looked up at Davy with dispirited eyes. "All I've wanted the whole time was to make people happy. Just like the time Mr. Zero sold me the harp. I never knew I could play it before then. I didn't want anything more to come out of it. Haven't we accomplished a lot more out of just being four guys who enjoy playing music...their music?"

Peter made a valid point which made the other three Monkees stop and think. What would become of them if their popularity or celebrity made them forget the basis of their band and friendship? Micky was first to speak.

"Peter, we'll always be friends and we'll always be musicians. No one is going to take that away from us because as you learned from Mr. Zero, no one gave us this gift we have. We rehearsed, we planned, we dreamed, and finally, everything we've wanted has come true."

"Everything happened so fast at the party," Peter sighed. "The last thing I remember is finishing our song and a producer coming up to us with a contract."

"Peter," Mike interjected, his southern drawl coming through loud and clear, "are you implying that we made the decision too hastily?"

"Yeah, what's going on?" Micky asked, his hand going through his fuzzy hair, a concerned look on his face.

"Well," Peter answered, "maybe we did. I don't want to be famous, I just want to perform." The tears were gone from Peter's face and determination took their place.

"What are you saying?" Davy's worried voice inquired.

"It only happened a few days ago but we have to think for ourselves about our future. I want to keep my musical freedom. Do you truly believe our celebrity will bring us happiness?" Peter's voice was no longer timid and shaky but was very strong and authoritative.

Micky, Mike, and Davy noticed an odd change taking place in their friend's character. They had never seen Peter take such a big stand on something before though they all knew his music was something that brought forth a Peter you couldn't stop. He would do anything and everything to prevent his love for performing music from being destroyed or tampered with.

"We all took a vote and I remember you being thrilled about the deal," Mike supplied.

"That was before I really thought about it all."

Micky and Davy became worried. Davy's next question was one all four men were wondering but were afraid to mention. "Peter, do you want out?"

The question cut through the solemness of the discussion like a knife. The very question was one never ever thought of as an option before. When things were easier it was "all for one, one for all". Now, it had become a question of the love for the art of "musical freedom".

Peter's silence echoed through the room. All eyes were turned on him though they so desperately wanted to turn away. Mike quickly became angered. He felt that Peter of all people should have understood the opportunities that would come out of a recording deal.

"Peter, this isn't just my dream, it's yours too, or at least it was. I want to play. Who says having celebrity will take away the 'musical freedom' you mentioned?"

"Mike, you've got to see that being in the spotlight won't give you freedom. It will be an illuminating chain that stays with you through your career and your life. People will point and recognize you. Their standards will be high; expecting you to play what they want to hear and not what you enjoy playing. Davy and Micky love the attention of a crowd but you, you'd die, man." Mike took the harsh words in slowly but wouldn't listen. A part of him knew Peter was right though another part of him didn't care. He wanted to play and he had to make a living. If the two tied together he was more than willing for it.

"Don't you want to hear people scream your name? Don't you feel this urge to hear your own music on the radio?" Micky asked. He just couldn't believe Peter would turn this opportunity down. "I get as much satisfaction by playing with you guys at a party. Look, the contract didn't include exactly four people so you guys go follow your dream and I'll follow mine."

He slowly got up and slipped on his brown suede moccasins, fearing his long time friends' reactions but relieved to have made his feelings known.

"What?" Davy exclaimed. "You're going to just leave us? You're one-fourth of the group. How can we possibly be a band without a key player?" Davy's tremendous anger as mixed with horror. He knew this was the one way he could break through and never yearn for money as he did in Manchester, England. His family was so poor that the only restroom he had growing up was one outdoors. This deal was too great to pass up and he didn't want to let anything get in the way of it.

"Peter, think this through!" Micky added, fear entering his body. This was his childhood dream and Peter was about to crush all of his hopes.

Mike took a more subdued approach in responding, seeming calm, his voice steady but small, "If you want to go then go, but don't turn around."

The words hit Peter like a steam engine though he knew that leaving and not looking back would be the easiest and fastest way out. His friends knew in their hearts that he wasn't letting then down, in fact they were proud of him for overlooking the fame and fortune by choosing the simpler, more honest way of life. The thought of having everything they had ever wanted overnight was more than they could imagine and the thought of turning it down was more than they could handle. Peter's heart was breaking but his love of music kept it from falling apart.

Davy, Micky, and Mike remained standing in their semicircle as Peter walked away from them. "I'm not leaving in anger," he said with his back to them and a tear forming in his eye, "and I love you all as brothers. I wish you the best of luck."

The three Monkees could say nothing. They were stricken with sadness, fear, disbelief, and a sense of relief that the truth had come out.

"I'll be leaving for Greenwich Village in a few days," he added while continuing to move towards his room up the winding staircase.

Davy started to go towards him, the sadness of it all hitting him the hardest. He knew what it was like to have a dream and be an outcast, but Mike held him back whispering softly, "Let him go."

The time went slowly with Micky, Davy, and Mike moping around about Peter. He managed to stay out of their sight as much as he could and they also avoided him. the man who was now their producer was aware that Peter would not be in the band and told them it was okay since his voice wasn't what he was looking for anyway. He said he could definitely find a fill-in for him. In a statement that should have made the three happy, knowing that it was okay without Peter, they were disturbed. Peter may have been right after all. Their musical abilities might not even matter. Three days later, the arrangements were made for Peter to fly back to the Village where his old band pals were waiting for him. He had originally moved to California to play music in the big scene with the celebrities and to meet new people. At first, he wanted the record deal but that was before he realized what happiness meant to him. He was leaving with the knowledge that he had accomplished more than he was aiming for in finding his friends Micky, Mike, and Davy.

During a rehearsal in the final hours before Peter left, the three stopped playing and looked at the spot to their left in which Peter usually stood. "Every time we start playing it sounds so empty," Davy sighed. "What are we going to do?" "We'll just have to deal with it, I guess," Micky said. "I just hope he's happy in whatever he does," Mike added.

They heard a car pull up outside and a knock at the door. Peter came down the tall, winding staircase, never making eye contact with his ex-bandmates. He opened the door which held a man in a yellow hat behind it. "Your cab's here, sir," he told Peter. "Just give me a minute, okay?" he told the man. "Sure, it's your money," the man supplied with a smile. Now was not a time to be happy, for Peter felt he was letting everyone down. He was terribly worried that the guys hated him or were mad at him for leaving. No one said anything, the rehearsing didn't resume. There was an eerie and rare silence throughout the beach house. Peter slowly climbed the winding staircase again to retrieve a lone laundry sack filled with his clothing which he swung over his right shoulder. He grabbed his guitar case with his left hand and slowly maneuvered through the bedroom door. At the foot of the stairs, he saw his three friends looking at him for the first time in three days. They had their hands behind their backs and solemn expressions on their youthful faces. No one knew when he should speak or who should speak first so the silence remained. Peter looked at each of his friends remembering different experiences he had with them. There were too many good times to let this parting take all that away from them. They had all been strangers in California, except for Micky, and they had all gone there for the same reason...to play their music. Each one had his own goal in mind but they were all geared towards being successful musicians be it in a professional or personal setting. Davy was the dramatic one, having performed several plays back in England, and couldn't hold back his own feelings much longer. "I'm going to miss you, Peter." He reached out his hand from behind his back in a gesture for a handshake. Peter extended his own right hand with the laundry bag still slung over his shoulder. As the two hands touched, both friends moved towards each other and hugged. Micky and Mike were also moved by the scene and extended their arms as well in a huddle type hug with Peter in the middle of it. Though Davy was the only one to have spoken, the gesture shown by all made it known that his own simple phrase was felt by all involved.

They slowly removed themselves from the huddle and Peter walked forward, tears flowing endlessly now. He silently walked towards the door and with one last gesture, turned around and smiled. The three friends and bandmates left behind smiled meekly as well, though a few stray tears escaped on each one's face. With that, Peter opened the door and disappeared. After having spent the previous three days thinking about their future and the fact that Peter had chosen to leave Mike felt compelled to speak. Gazing at Micky and Davy, who were both clearly distraught, he said, "Well, it's the beginning of the end for us now." How powerful those words were and how true.

© 2000DavyDvotee@aol.com

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