Chapter 9

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The compromising started from the get-go, and Mike came out of the womb complaining about it. The Powers That Be (TPTB) hired a songwriting team to pen the B-side of Clarksville, with a song by Carol King and Gerry Goffin, a pair of writers who worked out of New York's famous Brill Building, a virtual factory for pop music hits.

Their song, Take A Giant Step, was about a girl who was trying to recover from a devastating relationship gone south. Mike called it pre-chewed and pre-digested crap for the masses. Micky fought for the song to be included, however, finding deep meaning in the lyrics, which seemed to be the story of Gabby's crushing breakup with Nick and a story he knew well. Not only that, but he argued that the odd melody and instrumental section, plus the lyric advising the girl to "step outside your mind" were an excellent fit for the psychedelic sound they were going for. Mike wasn't used to being challenged on matters of music, particularly not from Micky, who mostly took a passive role in the past given his supposed limited musical skills (never mind that he played multiple instruments just like the other guys).

After the two rams battered horns for a while, they decided to shut up and let Davy and Peter weigh in. Davy didn't really give a damn. He was an entertainment pro and was just interested in getting on with the job and becoming a success. He felt that TBTB obviously knew more about what sells than Mike did and was willing to trust their instincts. Peter was all for asserting independence, but to him the lyrics mattered less than the music, and he too felt that the music in this song was solid. He also felt that they needed to be strategic in picking their battles, and that the B-side of their first single, when they were being given the A-side, was not the time to flex their independence.

Mike called Peter a hippie peacenik, Davy a nine-to-five man, and Micky a pretender for thinking he had a tenth of the musical vision that Mike had, and left the studio in a huff. The guys knew better than to try to peel him off the ceiling right now. Instead, they called it a day and phoned Wendy to warn her that she was on triage duty stat. She said she'd get on the case as soon as she could get away from the record store.

Luckily, Mike was like a homing pigeon and was on his way towards the bomb defuser. He called her to tell her he would meet her at her place. She hurried home after her shift with Italian takeout and a bottle of red wine, after calling Dawn and Gabby to warn them to find somewhere else to sleep that night. When she entered her apartment, Mike was sprawled out on the sofa with his ungodly sexy long legs propped up on the coffee table, changing the TV channels with the remote control like it was a gun he was shooting. Wendy took a deep breath and steeled herself for the task ahead.

Mike didn't bother turning around when she came in, and only grunted in response to her greeting. She crept up behind him and kissed his neck where that absolutely edible mole sat just waiting to be consumed. She felt him stiffen but try not to react. She moved up to his earlobe and gave it a nibble and he flinched a little. As she planted a row of kisses down his jawline, she stroked his sideburn and he finally broke, shivering with pleasure and groaning with desire.

He put his arms behind him around Wendy and said "Come here, lil' girl. I need me some more of that sweet petite sugar. It's been a day like runnin' a dunce academy."

"I know," she said, as she sank down onto his lap and wound her legs around his hips, continuing to to stroke his sideburns. "Micky called me and told me what went down."

Mike pulled his head back and eyed her warily. "Oh? And what's all this then?" He gestured at the food, wine and her body wrapped around his. "You here to talk me off the ledge and tell me I'm wrong?"

Wendy gave him one of her "Don't mess with me, Mister" looks and said "Well, you're half right for sure. I definitely want to get you back down to solid ground and feeling good again." She slid her hand down his thigh and back up again until she was just millimeters from his package. "But I have no idea who's right or wrong, and I don't really care. I just want you to get human again and stay that way. You can't be blowing up at the guys and flouncing out like a diva when you don't get your way, Michael. It's not professional and it's not fair. You've got to let this thing play out a bit before you act like you know it all. If you could produce your own record today, someone would have given you a sack of money and set you loose in a studio and said have at it. But they didn't. You signed a contract, one which according to Clyde has a lot more creative control than most bands in your situation. So you have to get to the acceptance point of this part of your life story and make the best of what you've got. And you've got to work as a team with the guys. No more of this ruling with an iron fist shit. Of course they respect your opinion and will defer to you on many things. But they have their whole lives invested in this project and want it to be a collective effort. It's the Monkees, not the Monkee. So tell me what you think of what I just said, and try not to leave a mark on me when you say it."

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