The Time Machine: Part Four

A Conversation With Myself

By TippTee

"The nights are cold and the days are hot

That doesn't seem too strange but I think your not quite here

Everything's new and a little bit wild

You've become my dream

Oh child, if you only knew

What I could do for you

If I ever needed someone like you

It's now

If I ever wanted a new chance at the game

It's now

If I ever tried to forget my past,

You'd make me see that this is at last the time

To be here now

Everyday when I look in your eyes

I see what could be and magnify the chance

That you would look my way

But I know that you're in love with him

And there's just no way you'd love a guy like me

Even down on his knees

If I ever needed someone like you

It's now

If I ever wanted a new chance at the game

It's now

If I ever tried to forget my past

You'd make me see that this is at last the time

To be here now

Oh, girl can't you see

When you look at me

That I want to be so much more than a friend

I can tell you're trying to look away

But it's like turning down the music

To drown out the song

If I ever needed someone like you

It's now

If I ever wanted a chance at the game

It's now

If I ever tried to forget my past

You'd make me see that this is at last the time

To be here now

To be here now

To be here now

Micky's voice drifted off into the crisp, cool air of Adriana's basement as she sat on an old sofa watching the guys practice. "Be Here Now" was one of the guys' first new songs and she had to admit that they did a great job on it.

They had been so excited when they ran upstairs and asked Adriana to come down and listen to what they had been working on. In only three weeks they had come up with ten new songs and even more that were just in their early stages. They apparently had all collaborated to write the songs, but according to Michael, they each took some time on their own and each wrote one of the ten songs on their own.

"Wow," Adriana breathed, "that was incredible. Who wrote that one?"

"Mi..." Mike started off.

"Uh," Micky interrupted, laughing nervously, "we all did."

Mike turned and gave Micky a strange look.
"Man, Micky, no we didn't," Peter argued, "that was y.."

"That was ours," Micky said, giving Peter a "look" and putting particular emphasis on "ours".

"Whateva," Davy said shrugging and placing his maracas down on a stool next to the keyboard stand.

Adriana had managed to pull off almost an actual recording studio for the guys in the basement. Link had made a few phone calls, and with the promise of being the first to hear this "new great band", his friend Robert was able to convince his father to loan the Monkees some equipment.

The Monkees? Well, they were determined to not be "The Monkees". Of course, they couldn't be, since there already were Monkees here in the year 2000. A week or so earlier, the guys and Adriana sat around thinking of a new name for the group.

"How 'bout the Rusted Cattle," Mike suggested.

"Nah," Micky said, "sounds too country."

"Hey," Mike said defensively.

"How about the Penny Whistles," suggested Peter, strumming his bass.

Adriana couldn't help but roll her eyes. When Peter saw her, he looked down sadly, still strumming his bass.

"I'm sorry Peter," she said, feeling awful for hurting his feelings, "but maybe we could think of something a little bit more, I don't know, aggressive?"

" 'ow about Davy and the All Star Band, eh," Davy suggested.

"No way, man," Mike said, " 'cause pretty soon we'd be know as 'Davy and the Rest of the Guys that Nobody Notices'"

"I've got it," Micky said, clapping his hands. "How about 'Flock of Seagulls'!"

"Ugh," Adriana groaned, "it's been done."

"Really," Micky asked.

"Yea, and badly," Adriana answered. "Besides, you guys don't have the hair."

"Hmmm," Micky pondered, "well then, how about Past Lives?"

"What about them," Peter asked.

"No, I mean we could call ourselves that," Micky continued. "The Past Lives."

"I like it," Mike agreed, nodding his head.

"Me too," Adriana said.

"So do I," Peter agreed.

"Well," Davy began, shrugging his shoulders, "I still think we should 'ave 'ad Davy and the All Star Band, but I guess this will do."

"Well," Adriana continued, "Whoever wrote it, I think it's great. Definitely one of the best."

"Um," said Mike, "thanks, I think."

"I really hate to break up the party, but I gotta go get ready for work," she said, looking at her watch. "I'll see you guys later," she continued, getting up from the sofa and making her way to the stairs.

"Don't go changin' to try and please me," Micky shouted after her.

"Micky," she asked, turning around, "have you discovered my Billy Joel collection?"

"Yea," he grinned, "he rocks."

"What's your favorite," Adriana asked curiously.

"Hmm," Micky thought, "so far I would have to say, 'We Didn't Start the Fire'"

"Cool," Adriana said. "Mine's 'Lullaby'. I love the piano work on that song. I remember hearing it for the first time at a choir contest when I was in junior high." Adriana leaned back against the stair rail, remembering. "I thought it was one of the most beautiful songs I'd ever heard. I love 'We Didn't Start the Fire' too. I remember hearing that when I was about eight years old. My brother was going into the Navy and he gave me this cute little stuffed whale I called 'Shamoo'. When he left I carried that thing with me everywhere. I used to sing that song to Shamoo. One day, when my parents and I were on vacation, I left Shamoo at the hotel and we couldn't go back and get it. I cried for hours. It was like the connection between my brother and I. We were so close. I was always afraid he was going to die, and I'd never see him again. Loosing Shamoo was like loosing my brother.

My brother did come back, though, but I never got another Shamoo." Suddenly Adriana stopped to see all of the Monkees looking at her.

"What am I doing standing her rambling on and on," she said, embarrassed that she had told so much about herself, "I've gotta get to work!"

Adriana turned and ran up the stairs.

One cool, early November afternoon, the guys sat around the living room, chatting while Adriana was at work. They already had a song list of over twenty and decided that was enough to make a sufficient demo whenever they headed off to Chicago.

"I don't think I've had a more creative period in my life," Mike said, as he sat on a reclining chair.

"Me neither," Peter said, sitting Indian style on the floor, staring out onto the deck.

"Peter," Mike asked cautiously, "you're really hung up on Adrian aren't you buddy?"

"Yea," he said, turning to face Mike, "but, man, every time I get up the nerve to tell her how I feel, she gets this weird look on her face and bolts."

"You mean she just runs out on you," Micky asked from his usual place on the couch.

"No," Peter said, "but I can tell she's not there. She's doesn't actually leave, but whenever I think she's about to get close and I want to tell her, it's like her thoughts are somewhere else."

"Well," Davy began while he sat, filing his nails, "did you eva think that maybe she digs someone else?"

"Like who," Peter asked, setting his chin on the palm of his hand.

"I don't know," Micky contributed, gazing at the ceiling "maybe someone she works with?"

"I hope not," Peter said, sadly. "For awhile, I actually thought that she might like me. She told me while I was here the first time that she liked me, but now, I'm not so sure."

"Peter," Mike began softly, "you've got to tell her how you feel. Sometimes girls need to know what you feel inside in order to be sure about what they feel. You need to find a way to let her know. It's the only way that she can really know."

"But what if she rejects me," Peter asked quietly.

"At least you'll know," Micky said.

The room grew quiet, as each Monkee sat with their own thoughts. The only sounds were the wind blowing the dry, dead leaves across the lawn, and Davy's emery board going back and forth, and back and forth.

While Peter wrestled with exactly how he should tell Adriana about his feelings for her, another Monkee in that same room wondered if he would ever have the chance.

The next day, while Adriana was at work, the guys were again sitting in their usual places, talking and thinking.

"Oh, man," Davy said, tossing his emery board across the room. "I've had it!"

"What's wrong, Davy," Micky asked, "break another nail?"

"Ha ha," Davy continued, "I'm tired of being 'ere. I've got to get out. I'm gonna go crazy."

"Davy," Peter warned, "you know we're not supposed to leave until Adriana gets home."

"I don't care," Davy said, making his way towards the door. "We've written all the music we can, we've talked about nearly everything, I've filed my nails until there's nearly nothing left. I'm gonna go crackers if I don't get out of here."

"Davy," Mike ran after him, "don't you go leaving and getting yourself into trouble. Adrian doesn't need that."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of meself, Michael," said Davy, opening the door and letting himself out.

"Davy," Mike called after him.

It was too late. Davy had made up his mind. He took off down the street in search of something.

"You have one phone call Mr. Jones," the police officer said. "I suggest you use it wisely."

Davy trudged over to the phone on the wall of the Rockscoe Police Station. He could hardly believe what had happened. He leaned his head on the cool cement wall next to the phone and thought about whom he should call.

Davy knew he couldn't call the guys. They would be furious with him and besides, they had no way to come and get him anyway. He couldn't call Adriana at work. She had enough stress there. The only other number he knew was one that he had memorized from calling it over and over many times a day, hoping to win the heart of the girl on the line. Slowly and carefully, he dialed Ursula's number.

"Hello," Ursula answered.

Davy remained quiet.

"Hello," she questioned.

Davy still remained quiet.

"Look," she asked angrily, "are you going to stand there breathing into the phone or are you actually going to say something?"

" 'elo luv," Davy finally spoke quietly.

"Davy," Ursula said, annoyed, "I thought I told you not to call me again. I don't like you. I don't want to go out with you, and I certainly don't want to hear any of your sappy excuses for pick up lines. Besides, didn't Adrian tell you that you were to call me in emergencies only?"

"Well luv," Davy began, "this is an emergency."

"I can't believe you Davy Jones," Ursula said as she pulled away from the police station in her little red Neon. "You're so lucky that that girl didn't press charges. Do you realize how much trouble you could have gotten into?"

"Save the lecture 'ey Ursula, I'm sure I'll get enough of that from Mike when I get 'ome."

"You, know," she said, "I really hope you do. You have got to learn that times are different now. Maybe where you come from it's appropriate to walk up to any girl on the street and say 'Hey foxy chick. You want to come to my pad and get groovy?', or whatever you said to that woman, but here it's just not acceptable. Not only is it sickening, but people take things that you say in a different way."

"I was just expressing my feelings," Davy said quietly.

"Well," Ursula said, "maybe you should learn to express them in a different way. That woman was this close to filing a sexual harassment case against you and if I didn't get there in time to talk her out of it, you'd still be sitting in jail."

Davy leaned his head against the window and sighed.

"By the way," Ursula asked quietly, "how's your eye?"

"It stings a bit," he answered, running his hand over where the woman's boyfriend had punched him. The spot was already turning many different shades of purple and blue.

She turned on the radio. The Shaniah Twain song "That Don't Impress Me Much" came out of the speakers. Ursula laughed to herself. As much as she couldn't stand the song, she had to admit it was very appropriate. The rest of the drive was in silence as the two listened to the song.

Ursula pulled her car into Adriana's driveway. "Here we are," she said.

"Ursula," Davy began, "I want to thank you for coming and helping me today."

Ursula turned to look at Davy. For the first time she noticed his beautiful dark brown eyes, and for once she actually saw sincerity in them.

"Your welcome," she sighed and turned away, "just be careful what you do and say here. Times have changed. Women are not toys that you can just play with for a day and throw out the next."

"Ursula," Davy said, reaching her and turning her face towards him, "I really like you."

"I know you do, Davy," she said, looking at his face, "and I can really say that was one of the most sincere things you said to me. I'm looking for a man who is real, not someone who is full of lines and all sorts of smooth phrases."

"I can be that man," Davy said, smoothing her hair.

Ursula sighed and broke away from him. "Davy, I wish I could agree with you. But I truly believe that it would take a long time for you to be that man. For right now, I think it would be best if we could just be friends."

"Alright," he said, placing his hand on the door, getting ready to get out. "You won't tell anybody what happened today will you?"

"I won't," she said quietly, "but what about your eye. What will you tell them about that?"

"I'll figure something out," he said getting out of the car. "Goodbye, Ursula,"

"Bye, Davy," she answered.

"Man, Davy," Mike began, "where have you been?"

"Davy," Adriana exclaimed as she ran to look at him, "what happened to your eye?"

"Well, you see," Davy lied, "I was walking down Main Street and I saw this really groovy chick. Some cat had a long pole sticking out of his truck and I didn't see it and walked right into it."

"Thank goodness you're okay," Adriana said.

"Yea," Micky said, "you sure had us worried, walking out like that."

"I'm fine," Davy said quietly, walking off to the basement. He had a lot to think about. Today David Jones learned an important lesson. Not about the right and wrong ways to 'bag a chick', but about the right and wrong ways to win a girl's heart.

"She's everything I need. She's my lover, she's my friend," Micky sang with Ricky Martin's voice that came blasting out of the radio in the basement as the guys were getting their sheet music together. They knew that they would be recording the demo soon and wanted to make sure everything was in shape whenever they got to make the trip to Chicago.

"Hey," Adriana said, as she came bounding down the basement stairs. "Get packing, you guys. We've gotta be in Chicago in two hours. Robert found out there was a cancellation in one of the recording rooms at his dad's record office and we've got it for the weekend!"

"Alright, Adrian," Davy said, throwing his tambourine in the air and catching it.

"Thanks Adrian," Peter said, going over to hug her.

"Yea," Mike said, sitting there stunned, "thank you. I can hardly believe that we've gotten this far. I can't wait to get this stuff on tape."

"Whoohoo," Micky shouted throwing assorted papers in the air and running over to where Adriana and Peter stood. He was planning on giving Adriana a hug too, but he saw that Peter had her locked in an embrace so he turned around and picked up the papers instead.

Mike looked over at Peter and Adriana. Peter had his back to the group, but Mike could guess that he probably had his eyes closed, savoring the moment. But, when he looked at Adriana, he saw that she had her eyes open, looking in another direction. He didn't want to think about who she was looking at instead of paying attention to Peter.

Adriana cleared her throat and broke from Peter's embrace. "Come on guys," she said, "let's get going."


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Part 3/Storybook/Part 5