Do it in the Name of Love
-- PART THREE --
I know she's havin' a fit,
She doesn't like me a bit.
No bird of grace ever lit
On Auntie Grizelda
LB had only made it through the song by averting his eyes from
his mother's face. She had been the one who insisted the guys
play something in the first place and looking at her, inherited
music ability or no, would have thrown his concentration off.
"Wonderful, boys!" She applauded and whistled
especially for "Peter". LB shrank back, wishing more
and more that he could just sink through the floor or vanish in a
poof. Anything to get away from her right now.
"Anything you want." He smiled awkwardly. Annie Fisher
looked about ready to faint. Help me. LB winced. No
matter what he did, she thought it was the most adorable thing in
the world. Just like when he was a baby. Only ten times worse.
Yeah, anything they want. Aaron's thoughts were more
focused on their goal. Get everyone back home and put this behind
them. Anything, so long as we can buy Kez enough time to fix
those orbs.
The four musicians got down off the bandstand and went in their
separate directions - LB to the room shared by the four Monkees,
Jeff out onto the beach house balcony, George down to the beach
for a moonlit stroll, and Aaron to the couch to veg for a while.
Kez watched all of this from the far corner near the old wooden
indian while he worked. Oddly, he observed that each family
member gravitated towards their relative-in-disguise. LB's mother
followed "Peter", Sarah followed "Davy", and
so forth. Boy, nature sure works in strange ways.
```*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*```
LB crashed on his bed the moment he walked through the door. At
least this would all be over soon and they could go home. He
didn't know how much longer he could keep the act up infront of
everyone. Particularly his mother.
"Mr. Tork?" A voice came from the doorway.
Speaking of my dear mother. "Hi. You can sit down
if you want." He added, as an afterthought, bashfully,
"And you can call me Peter." What the heck? Okay,
stringing her along not the best idea right now. LB found
himself split equal parts wanting to push her away and also
wanting to give her a little thrill. How often did a person get
to fullfill his mother's wildest dreams?
She smiled broadly. "Okay... Peter." She clearly loved
the sound of that. "I've always been a big fan of
your music, and I guess I was hoping that you would..."
Annie trailed off and pulled a small photo from her purse. LB
recognised it at once. It was the picture of the Monkees that she
kept with her at all times. In fact, he remembered seeing it on
occasion as a child. In her wallet there was a picture of him,
his sister, his father, and the Monkees. Unusual, but not really
surprising if one knew just how devoted a groupie she had been as
a teenager. "... sign this for me?" she finished the
sentence as LB had assumed she would, and he still took his
breath in sharply.
Mom! Cut it out! I'm your son for god sakes! She
continued to stare at him hopefully. And if you do this for
her, she'll be happy for the rest of her life. Man, he
wished that little voice in his head would make up it's mind. Alright,
alright. It's not like I'm lying to her exactly, right?
Everything we know points to the fact that here we really ARE the
Monkees, so... He reluctantly took the pen that she offered
him.
LOVE ALWAYS, PETER. it read.
If Annie could have, she would have right then and there pulled
Peter into a big hug. Realizing how out of place that would be,
she restrained herself and opted for conversation instead.
"I wish LB was here to see this right now."
Playing along, LB asked, "Who's that?"
"My son." She replied, thrilled that her teenage idol
was actually interested in her life. "Sometimes I kind of
wish he were more like you, to tell the truth."
LB was brought up short by that one. He could have sworn that his
heart stopped beating at that moment. What?
"I know it's an aweful thing to say since a parent should be
supportive of her child no matter what he chooses for his future,
but... it's just that... well, he's been so busy lately that he
seems to be shutting me out. He's so uptight that I can't even
joke around without risking him taking offense. It's like trying
to be friendly with a porcupine." Annie stared down at her
feet. "He could stand to learn to relax. You know, be a lot
more easy-going, like you."
"Gee." LB stuttered. "Thanks."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"A father's love is maybe all it takes... to not repeat
those sad mistakes of men... if I ever get to Saginaw
again..." Jeff strummed on his guitar. It still amazed him
how much fun it could be to play the thing.
Soft applause met his ears and he turned in time to see his
father standing in the doorway.
"Hey. Didn't see ya there." Jeff set the 12 string
Black Beauty gently to the side.
"You're really something, Mike."
"Yeah. Somethin'." Jeff moved over to the edge of the
balcony, staring down at the water lapping the shoreline. He
wasn't certain where his father was going with this, but he was
on guard in case it went somewhere ugly.
"You're a very responsible man. I admire that. You work hard
and look out for your friends." Charles walked up next to
Jeff, following his gaze to the rippling tide. "My son is
your complete opposite. He lazed about, complains, and he doesn't
think I know this, but he's out of work right now."
Jeff bristled inspite of his resolve to hide his true feelings.
He didn't want to tip his dad off, but dear old pa was hitting
awefully close to home right now. "Maybe he's just tryin' to
find himself right now. Everyone goes through that, ya know. I
did, you did.... the key is, ya can't give up on 'im."
"I've tried time and again with Jeff, Mike! He just doesn't
want to listen to anything that I have to say!"
Same old stubborn dad. Never wanting to admit when he was wrong.
Typical. He scratched at a sideburn absently before speaking
again, using that motion to cover his desire to throw a brick
through the window. In a calm voice that even surprised himself,
Jeff began, "Well, then I'm not sure what else ta tell
ya---"
"But I love him anyway."
Jeff froze.
"I might not always show it, but I love him. My biggest
regret is that I'm not sure he knows that." The silence hung
for a moment. Charles suddenly shook off the dazed look in his
eyes. "But why am I telling you this? You probably have
enough on your mind as it is without me sitting here and
unloading my problems on you."
Jeff nodded and watched his dad walk back inside. A small tear
formed at the corner of his eye as his father's words echoed in
his mind. I'm not sure that he knows that... I
do, dad. I do now.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
George hadn't been walking along the beach long when he became
aware that someone was following him closely. He whirled and
caught sight of his travelling companion, hanging a dozen or so
feet in back of him. Sarah.
"'Ey there, Beautiful. Takin' in tha night air too?" He
asked as he waited for her to catch up.
"Davy.." She blushed inspite of herself and shoved her
hands awkwardly into her pockets. "I was wondering if we
could talk?"
"Ah'm all ears." George replied, eager to hear what
this was about. Unlike the others, he wasn't afraid of being
discovered. He knew that he looked and sounded nothing like
George Stanchev, so the risk of being found out was so low it
wasn't worth worrying about. It was fascinating and more than a
little exciting to hear things that might not otherwise be said
in his presence. It was interesting to note that people said
things to "Davy" that they would have never said to
George.
Sarah's mood had changed a bit- now almost melancholy- before she
began. "Well, it's about my boyfriend. See, he's trying to
release this album of his songs, and its really stressing him
out. I love him and worry about him. I want to be there
for him, but he's been so shut off from me. We used to talk all
the time, and now I'm lucky if I get an email from him once in a
blue moon!"
George cringed. Downside of hearing these things- they could have
that nasty tendancy to hurt. The pain was worse since he knew
that all of what she said was quite true. He hadn't been
paying too much attention to her.
Sarah looked deep into his eyes at that moment and did something
unexpected. Turning her back, she began to sob quietly. She was
trying her best to cover it until she could control herself
again, but George knew the girl far too well for that old trick.
The up and down movement of her shoulders that anyone else
wouldn't have paid any mind to, set off alarm bells in George's
head. She was crying alright. Knowing that it would be awkward,
but unable to restrain himself, George took that moment to wrap
his arms around her shoulders. He stroked her chocolate brown
hair and pulled her around by the shoulders to face him. Her
ebony black eyes always disarmed him, with that bewitching way
that they caught the light.
"Ah'm so sorry." He wished for just a moment that he
could look like George again, telling her those words with his
own face and in his own voice.
She wiped away her tears, took a shakey breath and stepped back.
"You're sweet. Must be what all the girls see in you. But
I'm taken, alright?"
That hurt like a slap in the face. Damn it all!
"But," The word made George's heart skip. But? "it
was nice of you anyway. To think about my feelings and
everything. Been a while since someone did that."
She adjusted the strap of her shoulderbag, unsure of what to do
next. This was awkward, but what had she been looking for,
anyway? If she wanted to think about George, what was she doing
here on a deserted beach, with another man, and in the moonlight
of all things!?
Something about his eyes. That's what it was. "You know, for
a moment, I almost thought--" Sarah trailed off, stepping
foreward again and placing a hand on Davy's cheek. It was
definately those little "windows to the soul", as her
grandmother had called them. The gaze in them wasn't of someone
trying to make a move, but genuinely concerned and.... sad? She
fingered his brown locks of hair, wondering what would make such
a confident guy like Davy Jones look upset as well.
"Thought what?" George, too, was looking straight into
her eyes. Every bit of his being was screaming for her to somehow
recognise him, and it appeared to be working until she let her
eyes slip back down to the floor. Intense moment over. Kibosh on
that idea.
"-- for a minute, that my boyfriend, George, was standing
right there. You're looking at me just like he used to. When he
showed that he cared." She knew she was sounding like a
complete moron, but that's what she thought. The feeling was
something that she couldn't shake. "Or at least. maybe I was
hoping that he was around here? That he'd come looking for me or
something." She sighed. "But he probably doesn't even
know that I'm gone."
E's right 'ere. George thought as he once more wrapped
his arms around her. She didn't protest this time, but simply let
him comfort her. Sarah..
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Aaron leaned his head back on the couch and briefly entertained
the notion of catching a few winks while Kez worked as fast as he
could on the orbs. His rest was short-lived, however, for he
suddenly became aware of a small body cuddling up to his.
"Hello, what have we here?" Aaron sat up quickly, not
really at all surprised to find that small body was his sister,
Roxie.
She giggled and waved shyly. "Hi. My name's Roxie, and
that's my older brother Christopher." She pointed across the
room to Chris, who was leafing through the newspaper, the
contents of which were 40 years old by his way of thinking. It
was almost like picking up a history book.
"I have another brother named Aaron... I dunno where he
is." Roxie scratched her head comically. "He looks a
little like you anyway. Just not so much poofy hair and,"
she squinted as if considering something carefully, "he's
got a bigger nose."
Aaron laughed. Roxanne did have the reputation of being
the motor mouth of the family. And the most curious. It wasn't
lying with her, it was like playing a game. She always liked
hide-and-seek, and this was the ultimate version. He had the best
hiding spot too, right under her nose. "Well, Roxie. my name
is Micky. Sounds like you have a fun family!"
"Yeah, 'cept," She leaned over and whispered in his
ear, "Chris and Aaron fight a lot. They shout and
stuff."
Taking a long moment to make eye contact with his brother, Aaron
nodded, raising his voice, confident that Chris knew what Roxie
had said, "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Roxanne." Chris said sharply, "We shouldn't talk
about that right now."
"Why?"
"Just listen for once, okay?" Chris glared.
"Oh." She appeared crestfallen for a moment, then, eyes
suddenly brightening, she dashed off, hollaring a quick,
"Okay!" behind her.
"Now what is she up to?" Chris' expression
changed, and grin spread over his face, as Roxie rushed off.
"Always off to find another adventure when they're that
age." Aaron, too, was smiling. Roxie had a tendancy to
illicit that type of response from people.
"True." Chris agreed, reguarding "Micky" for
a moment. "You know, you're really great with kids. Like my
brother. He knows just what to say to her."
"You've just got to know how to talk to kids. Don't talk
over their heads, but don't speak rediculously slow to them
either. Treat them like they have a brain. That's the problem
with half the kids' shows these days..." Aaron realized he
was getting off on a tangent and quickly shut his mouth.
"Aaron would like you. You seem to think
alike." He added as an afterthought. "As a matter of
fact, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were a long lost
brother or something. Crazy, huh?"
Well......
```*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*```
The guard on duty patrolled the halls at regular intervals
throughout the night to make sure all good little prisoners were
snuggled safe in their beds.
"While visions of strip searches and cell-blocks dance in
their heads." The security officer by the name of Officer
Garrett Redford, according to his namebadge, at least, laughed at
his own feeble attempt at a joke. "You should have gone into
writing, not this dead-end business." He said to himself.
Working as long as he had at the state penitentiary, it was to be
expected that he would have developed a slightly perverse sense
of humor. It was the only thing that kept a guy sane.
Approaching cell block A2297-C, he tensed a little, humor
momentarilly brushed aside. This was the cell of that cratchety
old politician. Not that he'd ever tried to escape, but there was
always a first time for everything. There was something
uncomfortable about having a notoriously slippery man behind
bars, and unusual that he hadn't tried a jail break at least once
by now. You wondered how long it would be before he tried to
slide out the door.
He quickened his pace as he walked by the cell. No need to draw
the inmate's attention by staring, but he couldn't help himself.
He stole a quick sideways glance at the slumbering shiester. He
looked peaceful enough, but looks could be decieving. Prehaps the
old guy finally was turning over a new leaf------
Vision became red and bloody as something inside Garrett's head
exploded. He'd been hit with... what? Fumbling around, partially
blinded by the blood sliding down into his eyes, the officer
barely managed to face his attacker. The man was dressed as a
fellow officer, black pants and matching shirt were all
regulation, but Garrett had never seen him before. As a matter of
fact, he was certain that if he was to go into the break room, he
would find some unfortunate pal of his tied up and gagged, thrown
against the far wall. "Stay where you are!" He barked,
but fumbled with his footing as the image of the man before him
seemed to dance infront of his eyes. Focusing his pupils seemed
to be a thing of the past.
The man launched himself once more at Officer Redford, fists
flying. Blow after punishing blow his it's mark and the bloody
officer began to loose ground at an alarmingly rapid rate. About
to topple anyway, the man decided to help the policeman into
unconciousness. A spiral kick slammed into the man's nose, bone
shattering and blood exploding as if shot from a cannon.
Garrett Redford hit the ground with a wet thwap. He wasn't
dead.... but he was close.
"Now dash away, dash away, dash away all." Weitmagen
chuckled, completing Redford's morbid little rhyme for the man.
Lewis smiled and unbuttoned the policeman's jacket that he had
been wearing. "Damn thing got covered." He spoke,
referring to the officer's blood. "Too bad. Kinda hoped I'd
get to keep it. Never know when it might have come in
handy." The V-neck t-shirt he had had on under the jacket
was sweaty and streaked with stripes of dirt. He'd had to crawl
in through an underground tunnel to make the jailbreak.
"Fine job." The politician smiled his approval and sat
up on his cot within the cell. "Got the keys?"
"Of course."
"Then let's split." Weitmagen watched as Lewis pulled
the keys from his pocket and began jimmying with the lock.
"We have a score to settle with some Monkees."
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