Everyone ready for a vacation?

Peter: Yes!

Mike: But can we afford it?

Micky: Definitely! :)

Davy: I am.

(We open on the beach. Leah, Lizzie, and Robbie make a sand castle with Lauren, while the twins and Katie chase each other with water guns. Jordan leans against his mother, who reads a book. The guys sit at the picnic table, fanning themselves, while Emma serves cookies and barbecue.)

Mike: God, it's hot. How in the hell did it get this hot in May?

Peter: Mother Nature must have goofed.

Micky: I don't know, but I'm loving it!

Mike: You would. I'm roasting.

Peter: Go swimming.

Mike: I just did. I'm bored.

Emma: Baby, stop whining. You sound worse than the kids.

Mike: I wish we could go on vacation, like that car trip we did last year.

Davy: That was fun.

Emma: It was so fun, you all came back broke, hungry, and swearing you'd never do something like that again.

Mike: Not across the country like that, but...

Emma: But what? You guys have no money right now!

Mike: Shame none of us know anyone who owns a hotel or something.

Micky: Wait a minute. I know everyone! Someone has to have some type of connection! I'll head back to the house and call around.

Mike: Good. You do that. My brain will bake out here.(He lays his head on his arms)

*Micky heads up the beach toward the house.*

Peter: Oh, come on, Michael! Have some iced tea. (He hands Mike a plastic cup Emma just poured him.)

Emma: Shame a lot of our friends are away on tour or with their own families at this time of year. It is Memorial Day Weekend. We could leave the kids with Micky's mom or Valerie's dad and sister and go on an all-adult outing to a nice hotel.

Mike: One with a huge pool and air condition'.

Emma: We could go to one of those really fancy resorts in Malibu or down by San Diego, one of those secluded islands with millionaires and golf courses and everything.

Peter: I'd love a quiet vacation on a resort island that isn't housing a military loony.

Mike: I wonder if Mick got a hold of anyone yet?

Davy: We'll find out soon enough.

Emma: Valerie, what about you? Don't you own any hotels or something?

Valerie: (Shakes her head) Dad never got into that. He knows people who own hotels, but I don't know how willing they'd be to give us free stays in their properties, especially since...well, we can be pretty off-putting to some people.

Mike: What's so off-puttin' 'bout us?

Emma: For starters, your temper.

Mike: What 'bout my temper?

Valerie: Peter, when was the last time you shaved?

Peter: I'm growing my beard out.

Valerie: You look like a very scraggly golden bear.

Peter: Valerie, I think this is very hip...

Valerie: And totally wrong for you.

Emma: And Davy doesn't have the best temper, either.

Davy: Never said I did, luv.

Mike: Man, I didn't think anyone really cared 'bout the long-hair thing anymore!

Emma: I don't think it's as bad as it used to be, but you're all still pretty, well...

Mike: Weird.

Emma: You're yourselves. That's great, but it doesn't always sit well with the owners of these luxury establishments.

Valerie: Exactly.

Davy: *Nods* Mick gets some mighty strange looks with his afro.

Lauren: *Calls over* Mick gets strange looks period!

Mike: I ain't so much worried about his temper as I am about his sense of humor. Not everyone gets him.

Davy: No kidding. WE don't get him a lot of the time.

Peter: (Looks up) I wonder who he's calling?

Mike: He knows everyone around here. Maybe his mom can recommend someone with a hotel.

*Micky comes running out, waving an envelope and grinning widely.*

Mike: What's that, Mick? Subscription to "Chemists' Monthly?"

Peter: It must be big. You haven't looked that happy since the last time you and Lauren went to the movies and didn't watch the movie.

Micky: No! *Shoves the envelope in Mike's face* It's our answer to our vacation problem!

Mike: (Takes the envelope; frowns) Charles Towland? Wasn't he some big-wig who worked for Columbia while we were doin' our specials and "Head"?

Peter: I heard he quit Columbia simce then. I think he works for some new music company in Laurel Canyon.

Mike: (Reads the letter) He wants us to house-sit for his cabana on Coconut Island? Isn't that where the new Coconut Island Resort and Spa is?

Micky: You bet it is!

Peter: You're kidding? Really?

Mike: (Frowns) Wait a minute. Something's wrong here. We barely know the guy.

Peter: He did used to come around and watch our specials being made from time to time.

Mike: Only when he was directing a bunch of executives to somewhere else.

Peter: I think this is a real opportunity.

Mike: Well...

Peter: Micky, does it say when he wants us to do this?

Micky: *Reads* "Immediately upon receiving." Sounds like right now to me.

Mike: (Reads it again) It says we can bring anyone we want. There will be parties, lots of events over the weekend and things to do, the whole bit. (Sighs) I still don't like this, but it IS a vacation...

Emma: Why don't you boys scope out the lay of the land first? We'll get the kids together and join you later tonight.

Valerie: (Nods) If anything seems amiss by the time we arrive, we'll all leave.

Micky: Let’s pack!

Mike: (As Emma begins to gather the picnic food, he and the other three head upstairs; he turns to Micky) Mick, seriously, I have bad feelin's about this. I smelled somethin' nasty on that notepaper. Nasty...and familiar.

Micky: But, Mike, it's a FREE vacation!

Mike: I love that idea too, but a free vacation ain't gonna do us any good if we're too dead to enjoy it. I smelled demon prints on that paper.

Peter: (Joins them) Michael, what are you so worried about?

Mike: (Sighs) We'll take this vacation, because we need it...but we have to be on our guard. I think there may be more to this than meets the eye.

Peter: Michael, I think you're just getting paranoid again.

Mike: (Puts his head in his hands) I hope that's all it is, man. Mick, when are we supposed to meet this guy?

Micky: *Reads* "Please be at the ferry by 4:00pm if you’re interested."

Mike: Guess we're gonna meet this guy at the docks.

Peter: (Nods) I know where the ferry to Coconut Island is. It's the only way you can get there.

Mike: We'll bring Ursula, just in case.

Peter: (Smiles) Besides, she deserves a vacation, too. We never get to bring her along on these jaunts.

Mike: Well... (sighs) ...let's get going. We need to get some money for shoppin' and decide what we're gonna pack and call this guy and tell him we're comin'.

Peter: So we're all going to go?

Mike: Yeah.

*Micky and Davy high five each other.*

Mike: Let's go.

(Fade out on the group on the beach as we move down the beach and to the water. Fade in on another beach, one far more occupied. The camera travels past volleyball players, sun bathers, and families making sand sculptures to a huge, long modern building. It passes into that building as we see a group of men in light suits and a few women eating lunch and discussing business. The most familiar is a tall man with strong good looks and pale blond hair...the human form of Belavarg.)

Charles: (Another man arrives. This one is shorter and slightly stockier, but still ruggedly handsome, with thick, wavy hair and a dark, heavy mustache. He also wears a good, light summer suit) Hello, gentlemen. Sorry I'm late. Had a business appointment.

Belavarg: *nods* Understandable.

Charles: We're here to discuss possibly hiring those young men you mentioned. I put out that letter you told me to, sir.

Executive #1: With all due respects, sir, I don't think this particular group is of any real interest. Two out of four of them left the group some time ago, and their last few albums didn't even crack the Billboard Top 100 Charts.

Executive #2: Michael Nesmith has refused all offers to join us...and Peter Tork seems to have vanished off the face of the Earth. Micky Dolenz and David Jones still have contracts with Headquarters Records.

Belavarg: *nods* I have reason to believe that the group itself is together, just not formally.

Charles: I just heard from Mr. Dolenz himself. He and the other men will be quite happy to meet me at my cabana here on Coconut Island for the upcoming Memorial Day Weekend festivities. We'll discuss this business then.

Woman: (Slightly nasal accent) I'm sorry, but what's the big deal with these guys? (She leans over Charles, who starts making a series of rather strange faces as she gets closer to him) Sure, they had some good records, and their specials were real cute n' all, but weren't they a kiddie act?

Charles: (Shakes his head; gasps, but then recovers) No, not really. They put out some truly amazing... (Gulps, then) ...music for a while.

Executive #3: Didn't they make some kind of strange movie that flopped badly?

Executive #1: So did it's sountrack. It was said to be so subversive, so radical, no one would touch it.

Belavarg: Actually, they're rather ahead of the time. They're truly unrecognized brilliance.

Charles: They (squawks; then after another gasp) just lost their focus. We could help them (squeak) recover it.

Belavarg: Exactly.

Woman: (Shrugs) Ain't there any other way to talk to them? Invite them to Dark Star, or somethin'?

Executive #2: We've tried that. Mr. Nesmith flat-out refuses to come here. He hasn't shown up for any interviews we've requested, and he rarely talks to the press.

Executive #3: No one can FIND Mr. Tork.

Charles: What about (gasp) the other two? They're younger. They might be more willin' (chuckles) to agree.

Executive #1: We discussed this. We'd have to get Headquarters Records to let them out of their contracts.

Woman: Why don't we get outta here? The food ain't that great, and I wanna work on my tan. (Mutters to Charles) An' we've gotta date. Same place, the main hotel at six?

Charles: (Whispers) Make it seven. I've gotta meet those idiots the boss is so interested in and get them settled in.

Woman: Gotcha. (Out loud) Hey honey, mind if I go powder my nose?

Charles: She's, uh, really gotta powder her nose.

Belavarg: *Raises an eyebrow* Go ahead.

Executive #1: She might as well. (He shuffles some papers) Maybe we'd better break for the weekend. We'll meet back here on Tuesday to discuss this further.

Charles: Uh, yeah. If you don't mind, I'll just stay a bit longer and hash some stuff out with the boss.

Executive #1: Suit yourself. Have a nice weekend.

Executive #3: We'll see you at the usual party tonight, Charlie!

Charles: I wouldn't miss it! (He waves to them as they leave, then turns to Belavarg) I did it, Boss. I sent them the invitation. I just heard from them a few minutes ago. They fell for it.

Belavarg: *Smirks* Excellent.

Charles: Gonna bring them out to my place, get them likin' me, rememberin' old times, playin' in my music room...and then I'll get them for ya. Did you want them dead or alive? I got buddies who could do it both ways.

Belavarg: Bring them in alive, if you can.

Charles: I could drug them. I know people. They could bring in enough stuff to knock a moose out.

Belavarg: *Nods* That would work nicely.

Charles: You know, you never told me what your real interest was in these dorks.

Belavarg: They've crossed me in the past. I'm looking for some revenge.

Charles: Woman trouble? Or did they swipe money from ya?

Belavarg: Let’s just say it was a difference of opinion.

Charles: Ahh. They used to work for Headquarters Records, didn't they? Two of them are still there. (Smirks) They were dumb. They would have made more money with us! (Straightens his tie) I'm makin' more money here than I ever did at Columbia. The day those jerks fired me was the best day of my life. (Frowns)By the way, did you read the new reports Miss Gray brought in about someone possibly skimmin' money off the company? (Snorts) The things some people will believe!

Belavarg: Hm. Yes, I saw them. They're being looked into.

Charles: (Looks at his watch) Hey boss, I've got to meet a friend in a little while, so why don't we continue this tomorrow, after I've gotten those guys sloshed and drugged?

Belavarg: *Nods* Certainly, Charles.

*Belavarg heads out a back door. Charles went out the front. Bela steps towards some shadows.*

(A man steps out of the shadows. He is about medium height and stocky, with a heavy, craggy face and thick jaw. He wears jeans, a t-shirt, a light jacket, and sunglasses.)

Man: Hey. You said you wanted to talk to me. You have work for me.

Belavarg: Yes, I do. I wish for you to eliminate someone for me. His name is Charles Towland. He's a bit on the short side and stocky, with thick, wavy hair and a dark, heavy mustache. He's headed up to his cabana on the Island. It's near the Coconut Island Resort and Spa. *Nands over a thick wad of bills* Do an especially good job and there will be a bonus waiting for you.

Man: (Counts the money and grins) Hey, what the boss man wants, Les Bertanelli gives. What you got against this guy? Must be pretty bad to pay this kind of cash up front.

Belavarg: I don't take kindly to those who steal money and women.

Bertanelli: Yeah, I can't say I blame you there. Sounds like a real piece of work.

Belavarg: He certainly is.

Bertanelli: Any way you want it done, or shall I just plug him?

Belavarg: Something more discreet. Perhaps a poison or an injection of some sort. I also ask that if you see anyone else at the place, leave them be. I'll be dealing with them personally.

Bertanelli: What, is this supposed to be some kind of a party?

Belavarg: Not exactly.

Bertanelli: Maybe I'd better try showin' up when there's no one around.

Belavarg: An excellent idea.

Bertanelli: (Stows the money in his jacket) It's a pleasure doin' business with you, Mr. Diablo. I'll keep in touch. (He heads back into the shadows.)

Belavarg: A pleasure indeed. *Smirks, then turns headed back inside as we fade out*