The lights were hot and bright as they usually were. Peter felt sweat run down his neck as he picked up his bass. He glanced over at Mike, who had just strapped on his guitar. Micky was taking his place behind the drums and Davy stepped up to the mic so they could begin the show.
Peter caught Mike's glance and saw his expression. He wasn't happy. Peter smiled weakly back at him as they headed into the song. They had no choice, he reminded himself.
The crowd was cheering so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts for the rest of the show.
They finished the first half of the set and stepped backstage. Micky wiped the sweat off his forehead as he took a sip of cold water. Davy did the same. So far, everything seemed normal. To the naked eye, it was fine. But underneath?
Underneath...something was wrong...and it was painfully obvious to each of them.
Mike sat in a chair for the ten minute break and frowned deeply. That was wrong. Usually at this point they were happy. But not this time. Not with the price they had to pay.
The show finished and the Monkees re-entered the tour bus. The show had gone great, and the crowd hadn't seemed to notice any change, and reacted the same as they usually had.
Even the crew was oblivious.
"Good job, guys," Lou told each of them as they entered the bus, but instead of nodding and grinning and exchanging a few words like they usually did, each one of them was silent. Lou frowned. "What's the matter?" he asked Davy.
"Long story," Davy replied, not wanting to get into it.
Lou nodded. 'Something must've happened,' he thought to himself. He shrugged. 'No matter, I'll probably find out eventually.' He checked to make sure everything and everyone was on the bus before giving the driver the signal to move out. He entered the bus and sat next to Jenny.
"Hey," she greeted. "What's going on?"
Lou shrugged. "Beats me," he replied. "They all seem weird tonight."
"Weird how?"
"I don't know. I mean, it wasn't noticeable in the show, but they just seem...I don't know...listless, maybe?"
"Depressed?"
"Maybe," he replied, frowning. "I don't know why. The show went fine."
"Maybe something happened in Indianapolis," Jenny suggested.
"Maybe."
"I'm gonna try to find out," she decided, standing up and heading over to the guys.
"Hi," Jenny greeted, sitting down next to Micky. He barely noticed. She sighed, and tapped him on the arm.
"Oh, hi," he said, snapping out of his trance.
"What's the matter tonight?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" he asked. Micky had been under the impression that the show had gone well. The crowd didn't seem any less excited than usual.
"I dunno. You just seem, I dunno...out of it tonight," she replied.
"I do?"
"Yeah. All of you. What's going on?"
Micky shrugged. "Long story," he replied, unconsciously echoing Davy's response.
"I'll listen," she offered.
Micky searched her with a long look. Tell Jenny? Tell Jenny the secret? Tell Jenny the price they had paid for tonight's concert? He frowned a moment, thinking it over.
"Nah," he replied. "It's no big deal." He shrugged, trying to play it off.
Jenny nodded. She was disappointed, but didn't show it. "Okay," she replied, trying to be supportive. "If you wanna talk, you know where to find me."
He nodded in response. "Thanks," he replied. She smiled again as she left.
Spaghetti and meatballs was not Thomas' favorite meal, but he still usually ate it. So the fact that he was only stirring listlessly at his food bothered Nicole.
"Thomas?" she asked. The boy made no response, and she had to call him several more times before he responded.
"Huh? Oh, sorry, Mom. What's the matter?"
"I was gonna ask you the same thing," she replied calmly as she took a bite of her meatballs. "You're awfully quiet tonight. Is something wrong?"
Thomas shrugged. Joanne fixed him with a look of speculation.
"Somethin's wrong," she announced. "I can tell."
Nicole smiled. "So can I," she replied. "He's not eatin'."
Thomas frowned in thought, but didn't reply. He could tell his mother and sister were worried by the way they were speaking. Both were dropping the 'g's from their words. His mother did that when she was upset, so did Uncle Mike, and now Joanne was apparently picking up the habit.
There was no need to worry them, though. Not with a feeling this vague.
Knowing neither of them could force him to speak, he remained obstinately silent. He didn't speak the rest of the meal and toyed with his food. Something was wrong.
But the others didn't need to know.
*
*
*
Two A.M
Two figures crept across the parking lot. The tour bus had been sitting there for two hours now, untouched. The rest of the hotel was asleep.
"Ouch," a voice whispered as one of the figures tripped over something.
Shh!," hissed the other voice.
"Sorry," the first voice whispered back.
The two figures continued to the tour bus. One tried the door, but it was locked. It cursed under its breath.
The other figure held out the keys.
"You got the keys?" one of the voices hissed.
"Yep," the voice replied. The figure stepped forward and unlocked the bus. Together they stepped into the bus.
"Where is it?" one of them hissed. "I can't see anything."
"Weren't you a Boy Scout?" the other voice asked as it took out a flashlight.
The figure just shook its head as the other switched on the flashlight.
"It's back there," Mike told Peter after scanning the bus. Both headed to the back of the vehicle.
"Help me," Peter hissed after trying to lift the heavy chest. Mike stepped forward and grabbed the other end, helping him to heave the chest. He stuffed the flashlight in his mouth and began to back out of the bus.
"I hope this is worth it," he commented as they set the chest down outside the bus.
