Everyone ready for our next four-part series?

Mike: No.

Peter: I'm not sure I am, either.

Micky: I'm thinking we don't have any choice.

Davy: Not really.

(We open at Jacques Cafe. The camera pulls into the back of the restaurant, revealing the guys sitting at a small table, eating burgers and salads.)

Mike: (As he finishes his burger) Guys, we have to think of SOMETHING that'll sell our sheet music to the public! We have practically no money. I'm behind on the lease for the office room over the Club Caprice!

Peter: (He's picking at his salad) Michael, we're doing what we can. We can't make money magically appear, you know.

Mike: (Turns to Micky) Mick, you two are supposed to be our sales department. Made any pitches lately?

Micky: I've pitched until I was blue in the face and my arm was about to fall off. I just can't force people to buy it.

Peter: Michael, we're behind the times. People want either music they can dance to, like the Jackson 5, or harder stuff, like Led Zepplin, or rhythm and blues.

Mike: Then what can we do about it? Any suggestions?

Peter: How's that special coming, Mick? Davy?

Micky: Fine. We've got some of it filmed.

Mike: When's it gonna be on TV?

Davy: Should be just a few weeks.

Peter: It should generate some great publicity!

Micky: We're hoping so.

Mike: Given any interviews lately?

Davy: *Sighs* No, we haven't.

Mike: I tried talkin' to Columbia again yesterday. (Makes a face) No luck. They're still sayin' they wouldn't touch us with a hundred-foot pole after "Head."

Peter: Valerie says she's going to at least try to get our specials re-run in syndication.

Mike: Man, I wish there was a TV station just for music and music acts. With shows like "Ed Sullivan" goin' off the air right and left, most musical programs tend to get buried on Saturday mornin's, late at night, or on somethin' cheesy like the Sonny and Cher Show.

Micky: Then why don't you create your own, Mike? *Chuckles*

Mike: I'd love to. It's just a matter of talkin' to the right people...and findin' the right money. It ain't cheap to start a TV station.

Peter: Which brings us back to money again.

Mike: Peter, ain't you still teachin'?

Peter: (Nods) Yes, but not as much as I used to. There's a recession going on, Mike. People don't have the money to spend on things like music lessons that they used to.

Mike: Have you talked to local schools?

Peter: (Nods) One private school looked interested. Most of the public schools in the LA area can barely afford the teachers they already have.

Mike: Have you thought of tryin' music again?

Peter: (Shakes his head) I've talked to a couple of companies, but they just aren't interested in me as a solo act. I'm not well-remembered enough, apparently.

Mike: I've gotten the same. Some of my old friends from Texas are talkin' 'bout playin' music together, maybe even tryin' to put out a record of our own. Valerie said she'd be interested. It would be a side thing from the band.

Peter: Mick, Davy, have you two and Boyce and Hart gotten an album deal yet?

Davy: No, but we're hoping.

Mike: Man, there has to be SOMETHING we can do. I'm already thinkin' of sellin' two of my cars. Not Urse, of course, but some of the others...

Peter: (Rolls his eyes) Of course. You couldn't sell your precious cars. God forbid.

Mike: Pete, those cars mean a lot to me! I don't see you selling any of your musical instruments!

Peter: No, but I may have to. Once again, I don't want to. I love my music. I just.... (frowns) ...haven't really been playing it much lately.

Mike: Pete, that isn't like you. I thought that's all you wanted to do.

Peter: I thought I did, too. Now... (he sighs and shoves the lettuce around on his plate) I'm not sure about anything anymore.

Mike: (Looks at Micky and Davy) Maybe we could sell somethin' else. Got any ideas, guys?

Micky: I have no ideas, truthfully.

Mike: I don't want to fold the company! We need money, and we need it fast!

Peter: Michael, you're whining. That's not like YOU.

Mike: Pete, stop soundin' like my mother.

*Micky takes a menu, leans back, and sets it over his face.*

Davy: Got another of those, Mick?

*Micky, without removing his menu, reaches behind him, grabs one off the pile, and hands it to Davy.*

Peter: Stop fussing like a five-year-old.

Mike: Well, do YOU have any ideas of how to save this company?

Peter: We need to talk to some of the other music companies. We've already talked to Val...

Mike: No offense to your wife, but she isn't THAT big of a company, and the majors don't seem to be interested.

Peter: We have to persuade them...

Mike: We've tried and tried! Nothin's workin'!

Peter: Michael, you're giving up too easily.

Mike: I ain't givin' up. I just... (He frowns - most of his fries are gone) Hey! Where's my lunch?

*Micky and Davy continue to ignore Mike and Peter.*

Mike: Guys, what happened to my fries?

Peter: Guys...

Davy: What?

Mike: Nice try. I know SOMEONE ate my fries, and it wasn't me!

Peter: Or me! I don't eat fries. Too greasy.

Micky: *From under his menu* You two were too busy arguing.

Mike: Micky, I was hopin' to actually EAT my lunch!

Micky: Should've thought of that earlier.

Mike: Didn't you have enough for lunch?

Micky: You snooze, you lose.

Mike: Mick, eat your own lunch! Leave MY food alone!

Peter: Guys, don't fight. It's not that big of a deal.

Mike: He shouldn't be taking people's lunches!

Micky: *Pulls the menu off* You've been so busy arguing with all of us, I'm surprised you even noticed!

Mike: I ain't been arguin'. I've asked for your ideas.

Micky: You've been doing both. Mostly the former.

Mike: Well, do you want to save this company, or don't you?

Peter: Yes, but not by arguing.

Mike: Sometimes, you need to argue!

Micky: *Plops the menu back on the stack* I've had enough of this. When we can continue this in a civilized manner, come and find me. *Storms out.*

Mike: Micky! Hey!

Peter: He's right, Michael.

Mike: Who's side are you on, Pete?

Peter: Don't start on me, Michael. Your current financial troubles are not MY fault. I have my own problems.

Mike: Yeah, and if you'd been able to do somethin' besides smoke dope and mess around with those friends of yours, you might not HAVE those problems!

Peter: (Growls) MICHAEL!

*Davy rolls his eyes. He returns his menu and follows Micky out the door.*

Mike: (Frowns) Oh shit. Pete... (Sighs) Look, maybe we'd better discuss this another time.

Peter: (Not looking at Mike) Yes, maybe we'd better.

Mike: (Turns to Peter) Pete, I... (But Peter still won't look at him. He sighs) I'm sorry. Here. (He tosses some money on the table) This will pay for our lunches. I'll see you later. (He finally leaves. Peter still won't look at him. He just leans over and puts his head in his hands as the bus boys begin cleaning up.)

Peter: Oh man...what am I going to do?

*A well-dressed man with pale blonde hair walks over to the table and stops beside Peter.*

Man: Troubles, young man?

Peter: (Nods) Yes, you might say that.

Man: What seems to be the problem?

Peter: I'm broke. My friends and I are trying to start a sheet music distribution company, but we're not having much luck. I lost a lot of money in the last few years, and I...just haven't played music much lately. I don't know if I can anymore.

Man: Would you like to find out if you're still able to play your music?

Peter: Yes...but how? We've talked to every major studio in town. They aren't interested in me as a solo act, and the group I tried to form didn't work out.

Man: I meant you, young man. You're troubled. Perhaps you’d feel better if you played some music.

Peter: I want to. I've played a little with my friends, especially Michael. But when I'm alone...it just doesn't come to me like it used to.

Man: I'd be happy to give you the chance.

Peter: How, sir? I don't know you. Are you a musician? I've never seen you around town.

Man: I produce, and tend to keep a low profile. I've helped many a young musician gain or regain confidence. My fulfillment comes from helping those in need.

Peter: Really? Where do you work?

Man: Dark Star Records. I'm purposely keeping the business small so that I may continue to help the musicians who truly need it.

Peter: My friends and I are hoping to start a small music production company too (sighs), but it isn't going well.

Man: Perhaps I could offer some pointers & show you around mine.

Peter: I would love that! I just...maybe I should get the other guys...

Man: No, young man. I think you need this for yourself.

Peter: Could I play? Maybe even demo for you? My wife would love that. She owns a company of her own, Headquarters Records.

Man: Most certainly!

Peter: (As he stands) Maybe you've heard of my wife, or of us. My friends and I were a pretty popular group a few years ago. You might have seen our specials. We're - or we were - The Monkees.

Man: Yes, I am rather familiar with you.

Peter: We technically still have a contract with Headquarters Records - my wife never really broke it - but haven't released an out-and-out group album since our movie "Head" bombed.

Man: That is fine with me. I merely want to help you feel comfortable with your music again.

Peter: (Nods) All right. (He starts for the back of the restaurant, putting his hand in his pocket to get his communicator) Just let me call my wife and tell her where I'm going...

Man: I promise you we won't be long. She won't even have to know.

Peter: Well, all right. (Frowns) There's something strange about your aura, though. It's almost...dark.

Man: Really?

Peter: (Nods) Like you're...evil.

Man: I assure you, young man, that I mean you no harm.

Peter: (Doesn't sound convinced) Well, all right...

Man: I'll show you I'm trustworthy, young sir.

Peter: Ok...

(There's a dark flash, and we fade out on the restaurant. One of the bus boys looks around with a "Whoa, where did he go?" look on his face. Fade in on the kitchen area from Belavarg and Stella's mansion. There's another black flash, and the well-dressed blonde man and Peter appear.)

Peter: (Frowns) Where are we? This doesn't look like a recording studio!

Man: This is the lounge in the studio. I thought perhaps you'd like a drink or something before we begin.

Peter: (Nods) I just had a salad, so I'm not really hungry, but...what do you have to drink?

Man: We have just about everything. What would you like?

Peter: (Thinks) Do you have any iced tea?

Man: Certainly do. I'll get it for you. *Goes to the fridge and retrieves a large pitcher of tea.*

Peter: (Looks around) This is a nice lounge. Very homey. Seems quite lived-in.

*With his back to Peter, Belavarg fills the glass, but pours a clear liquid from a small vile into the glass. He turns, rejoining Peter with the glass.*

Man: Thank you. That is an appreciated compliment.

Peter: (He sips the iced tea and smiles) This is really good. Compliments to the chef.

Man: *Nods* I'll pass it along.

Peter: (His eyes are starting to cloud) Really good... (he gulps it faster) Want more...

Man: There's plenty where that came from. *Refills the glass*

Peter: Thanks. (He drinks it faster this time; his eyes become more cloudy) Really good. (He grins) I like it. What's your secret?

Man: Our special mix of spices we use. There's more than just lemon and sugar in there.

Peter: Really? Tastes good. Like...cinnamon...almost. (He giggles) Tastes REALLY good. Like it.

Man: That's wonderful to hear. *Checks his watch* Oh dear, I must step out quickly to take care of something. Make yourself at home. Help yourself to the tea. I'll be back shortly.

*He heads out of the kitchen, leaving Peter at the table.*

Peter: (Leans back) Yeah. Ok. (He laughs) This is soooo good! I wonder what I was angry about? (He giggles helplessly)

*Stella appears in the doorway and stops for a moment.*

Peter: (Looks up and grins hazily) Hi! Who're you? You a producer?

Stella: *Grins* Why, yes I am!

Peter: Good. Can I play for you now? That man told me he wanted me to play for him. (Looks around) Where is he? Where's that blonde man? The one with the dark aura? (Frowns) Your aura looks kinda dark, too. Not like his, but still pretty dark...

Stella: He'll be right back. He had a small piece of pressing business to take care of.

Peter: 'Kay.

Stella: You can play when he returns. *Sits next to Peter*

Peter: 'Kay. (He smiles) This is good iced tea. Want some? (He guzzles his) I'm havin' some.

Stella: I'm all set, but I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Peter: This is good. (He giggles and smiles at her) You're good. Not like Valerie, but still pretty. Not like my Val...

Stella: *Leans closer* Thank you. You're not so bad yourself.

Peter: Wish Val could be nice, like you.

Stella: *Rests a hand on Peter's chest* She isn't nice?

Peter: No. Works all the time, even though she's pregnant. Doesn't listen. Thinks I'm a child, like Michael does.

Stella: *Runs her hand over his chest* How awful. She should be appreciating you, like I am.

Peter: She doesn't 'ppreciate me. Michael never did. He won't listen. Only cares 'bout money, not the music...

Stella: *Very close* I could appreciate you.

Peter: You...could?

Stella: *Breathily* Very much so.

Peter: How could you 'ppreciate me?

*Stella kisses Peter, still running her hand over his chest.*

Peter: I...liked...that... (He kisses her back...and harder!)

Stella: *Smirks* Want more?

Peter: Uh...huh...

Stella: *Takes his hand and pulls him to his feet* Follow me, dear.

*We fade out as Stella leads Peter out of the kitchen.*