Mike drove slowly past the Potion Club. It was marked with a big blue neon martini glass. Mike pulled the Monkeemobile around the back of the club. The guys climbed out, gathered up their equipment and headed for the stage door. A large black man opened the door at Micky's knock.
"Hi, we're the Monkees." Davy said, "We got a call to play here tonight."
The man simply nodded and let the Monkees into the club. As they walked through the back halls, looking for their dressing room, they were met by another man coming the other way. He was dressed in a purple suit and had stringy brown hair down to his shoulders.
"Hey, hey you're the Monkees?" The man asked.
"That's right." Peter said, not sure what to make of the man.
"Groovy!" The man said, "I'm Keith Locksley, welcome to the Potion Club!" He shook hands with the four musicians.
"Thanks for hiring us, Mr. Locksley." Mike said.
"Hey, no problem." Keith said, slapping Mike on the back, "I had heard about you guys, and when the band originally to be here tonight got sick, well...I thought I give you guys a call." He rubbed his hands together. "C'mon, I'll show you where your dressing room is and where you can set up. You're on in an hour."
"Lead the way, Mr. Locksley." Davy said.
"Keith, call me Keith." He said and motioned for the Monkees to follow him, a big smile on his face.
The Monkees picked up their gear and followed the club owner.
They were led down a few dark corridors and into the dressing room.
The Monkees' eyes went wide as they came inside. Never had they seen a dressing room like this before! It was huge compared to the other places they had been to. The walls were covered in dark green velvet with large light-lined mirrors hanging on them. A chandelier hung from the ceiling. There were several make-up tables in front of the mirrors and in one corner, there were couches for them to relax on. A bowl of fruit on a coffee table by the couches completed the scene. Keith noticed the looks on their faces and chuckled. It was always the same reaction from first-time groups.
"Like it, guys?" He asked.
"Yeah, it's groovy..." Peter remarked, looking at the chandelier.
"Wait `til you see the rest of the place." Keith smiled, "C'mon. I'll show you to the stage."
He led them to where they would play that night. The curtain was closed, so the patrons wouldn't see them. It was a large stage, but what made it different is that it was made of stone, not wood as was usual. The Monkees quickly began to set up their instruments. Keith watched them for a few minutes, then asked if they would be able to find their way back to the dressing room. Mike said they could, so Keith left them.
"What a place." Micky said in awe to the others as they set up.
"Yeah, it sure is different." Davy replied.
After they had set up, the four of them walked back to the dressing room. When they went inside, they were met by four young ladies, all wearing purple velvet miniskirts.
"Hello, gentlemen." A blond said to them. "We're your make-up artists."
"Makeup artists?" Micky asked.
"Yes!" A brunette replied with a laugh. "Mr. Locksley wants his performers to look their best as his club."
"Well, we don't...I mean we aren't into that." Mike said.
"We're only going to put some powder on your faces so they won't be so shiny." Another blond girl replied, smiling brightly.
"The lights are pretty bright shining on stage, and it tends to wash your faces out, so with this stuff the audience will be able to see your faces." A fourth girl, a redhead, spoke up. She had a jar of powder and a brush in one hand.
The Monkees looked at each other.
"Why not?" Peter said, and sat down in front of a mirror. The others followed suit and the girls put cloths over the guys' clothes and applied the makeup powder, then combed their hair.
"I draw the line at mascara, girls." Micky said
The girls giggled at Micky's joke. Keith walked into the room.
"All done, ladies?" He asked.
"Yes, Mr. Locksley." The brunette replied.
"Oh, that's great, thank you." Keith walked over to the Monkees.
"Would you guys like something to drink before the show?" He asked. Micky, Mike and Davy only asked for water. Peter asked for hot water with lemon.
"That's all?" Keith asked, a little surprised. "You sure you don't want something a...little stronger?"
"No thank you, Keith." Davy replied, "We don't drink alcohol."
"Hey, to each their own. I'll have one of these lovely ladies bring them over to you." Keith smiled and left the room, followed by the four girls. The blond winked at Davy as she left.
"What a place." Micky said quietly to the others.
The others just nodded. They too had never been treated like this in other clubs. The blond who had winked at Davy came in with a tray of three silver goblets and a porcelain cup.
"Here's your water gentlemen." She said.
"Thanks, luv." Davy smiled as he took his water goblet. The others did the same. Peter took his cup with a slice of lemon in it.
After drinking their water, Peter and Mike tuned their guitars and soon enough, Keith came back into the dressing room.
"Ok, Monkees!" He said, clapping his hands together, "Show time in one minute!"
The Monkees followed him to the stage and took their positions behind the curtain.
"Break a leg, fellas!" Keith said.
From behind the curtain, the Monkees could hear the MC.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, due to an unfortunate illness, Gary and the Gaslights could not be here tonight. So we have with us tonight another group I'm sure you will enjoy. Give it up for...The Monkees!"
Cheers and applause came through the curtain, which then opened up for the audience to see the replacement group. Micky counted off and the group started on "Last Train to Clarksville".
They looked around the room as they played. The dark room was large, with tables and chairs set up around the stage. There was a large crowd on hand, filled with the famous, infamous, and wanna be famous drinking from large goblets. Dim chandeliers hung from the ceiling, which seemed to be painted black, and a pall of smoke filled the air.
It didn't take long for the audience to warm up to the new act. They whistled and applauded after every song. The Monkees for their part quickly got over the strangeness of the room and began to relax. During the break, while the guys were telling each other about the celebrities they saw, a young woman in her late twenties with brown curly hair down to her shoulders came over to the group.
She had a drop-dead red dress on that came down to her knees and was carrying a small purse. The Monkees' conversation quickly stopped when she came over to them.
"Hello, gentlemen." She said politely, "I was wondering if I could talk to you."
"Sure." Davy said, his mouth hanging open. Micky reached over and closed it.
The girl reached into her purse, pulled out a business card and handed it to Mike. "My name is Maggie May McDonald. I'm a talent scout for Ritzy Records."
"What can we do for you, Miss McDonald?" Mike asked.
"I've been listening to your music tonight and I'm very happy with what I've heard." Maggie said, "In fact, I've heard good reports about you four and I'm glad I finally got the chance to hear you for myself."
"Thank you, Miss McDonald." Micky said with a smile. "We had no idea people were talking about us."
"Oh, Ritzy Records has lots of scouts around, always looking for something new." Maggie replied. "That said, I think my boss Ms. Ritz might like to hear what you have to offer."
The Monkees didn't know what to say to this. A meeting with a record company head?
"That would be...groovy." Peter said, more than a little shocked.
"Call me tomorrow at the number on the card." Maggie told Mike. "I'll schedule an appointment with her as soon as possible."
"Sure, we'll do that! Thank you, Miss McDonald!" Mike said happily.
"See you gentlemen later." Maggie said with a smile and walked away.
The four stunned Monkees watched her leave. It was several seconds before Peter was able to speak.
"I've never seen a business card done in black paper and red lettering." He mused.