Mary, Mary

After the Monkees performed—they were outta sight, as usual—Mike, Micky, Rachel, Peter and Autumn met in front of the Vincent Van.

"You guys did great!"

"Thanks. Hey, guys, where's Davy?"

"He took the car and the instruments back to the pad."

"Oh, that makes sense."

"I guess we're walking back."

"Oh well." Peter took Autumn's hand. "It's not too far."

"And our hotel is on the way."

Micky slipped one arm around Rachel's waist. He leaned his head close to hers. "I'm so glad you came with me tonight."

"I'm glad I came. I had so much fun. When are you playing again?"

"I'm not sure. It may be a while. I wouldn't want to wait that long to see you again."

"Me neither."

"Can you come over to our house tomorrow night?"

"I'd love to."

"Mike? Micky? Peter? Autumn?"

The four called turned around. "Mallori!" exclaimed Autumn. "I thought you were leaving town for two weeks."

"Not for a little while longer, actually. It was postponed until tomorrow."

"Davy's already at the pad. He took the car home."

"Oh good. I wanted to say goodbye."

Autumn and Peter, and Rachel and Micky reached the hotel.

"Hey, Mike, Pete and I are gonna walk the girls up to their rooms. Would you wait for us?"

"Not more than fifteen minutes."

"Thanks, Mike." Micky, Rachel, Peter and Autumn went inside the hotel.

"Mike?"

Mike turned around. "Kattina!" Kattina was the girl Mike would date. He would date her if she were older. As it stood, Kattina was only sixteen years old. They'd met last September on the cruise Autumn had taken all of them on. Kattina and Autumn were acquaintances—Autumn used to babysit for Kattina. "What are you doing out so late?"

"I was on my way home. What are you doing out?"

"The same. What have you been up to lately?"

"School, mostly. You?"

"We had a gig tonight. D'you remember Gia and Micky?"

"Yeah, I do."

"They broke up yesterday. Gia and Autumn's house burned down yesterday morning. The police suspect arson."

"Wow. I'll never understand how you people get involved in so many . . . 'adventures.'"

"Neither will I." Mike sat on one of the benches and patted the empty space next to him. Kattina sat down. "How have you been doing lately?"

"Pretty well, you?"

"I'm fine."

"I have to get back soon. I'll see you around."

"Bye."

Kattina stood up, gave Mike a quick kiss, and hurried on her way.

After the Micky and Peter returned, the three Monkees and Mallori continued onward. About a block before they reached home, Mike stopped the taciturn procession.

"Micky," he said, "you've been whistling that same tune since you came out of the hotel. What is it?"

"I dunno. It was something Autumn was playing on the piano inside the hotel."

"How?"

"There's a piano in the lounge. We stopped there for a few minutes."

"So what is it?"

"Solfegietto by C. P. E. Bach," Peter supplied.

"What did you say?"

Peter spoke more slowly. "Solfegietto by Carl Philipp Emmanuel Bach."

"Oh." The four of them continued walking.

"Um, Peter, has she played—"

"Solfegietto."

"Yeah, Solfegietto—for you before?"

"No."

"She didn't say what it was—how did you know?"

"It's a very famous piece."

"I'm impressed—usually, you're the dummy."

"Thank you!"

"Well, here we are." Mike was right, there they were.

"Wherever you go, there you are."

"How'd you know, Mick?"

Micky, Mike and Mallori shook their heads. Mallori grabbed the door knob of the Monkees' guh-roovy pad.

"Wait!" exclaimed Mike in a whisper.

"What?"

"Something's wrong."

"And it's not Mike," added Peter.

"What do you mean, 'Something's wrong'?"

"Something isn't right."

"Oh."

"Really, guys, what is wrong?"

"I . . . I'm not sure."

"Fine. I'm going in. You can stay or come in as you please." Mallori opened the door and walked into the house. She was only a few steps in before she disappeared from view in the dimly lit house. The three Monkees peered after her until Mallori switched on the light.

"DAVID THOMAS JONES!"

That brought the other Monkees running. They found Davy and Gianna sitting on the chaise lounge, looking guilty.

"What did you think you were doing?"

"I . . . I. . . ."

"I didn't think so." Mallori turned around and found herself face to rib cages with Micky, Peter and Mike. "Excuse me, guys. See ya 'round." Micky stepped to one side, and Peter and Mike stepped to the other, allowing Mallori—and soon afterwards, Gianna—to leave the house.

"You were right, Mike," said Micky.

"Davy, you alright, man?" Peter asked. Davy was holding his head in his hands.

"Yeah, sure, fine. Just stupid. Really, really stupid."

Mary, Mary Part Six (Conclusion)

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