Blow My House Down

Chapter 7

"Ladies and gentleman, we would like you to meet The Man With the Golden Ear - Don Kirshner!" Schneider exclaimed with pride, a bright smile glowing on his face. Anyone with the name of Don Kirshner has to be some pretentious asshole who rarely takes anyone else's wants or ideas into consideration. The Monkees clapped, unsure and confused, as a man with a receding hairline walked into the room.

"Hello, Monkees." Kirshner greeted, then nodded to us. "Ladies."

And bingo, I was right! He embodied every idea of pretension, from his expensive suit to the permanent fixture of a smirk on his face. Annie glanced at me warily, and I shook my head, already knowing he was bad news.

"So, Donnie," I spoke up. "Are you here to make The Monkees a success?"

"Yes," he answered, tilting his head to the side as if to say I was of no importance in this game of music. "And who might you be, sweetheart?"

"The name's Kat Lennox -- not sweetheart." I retorted, crossing my arms. "Is that your idea? This is the 60s, I thought we were finally getting somewhere. But I guess you still think women should at home making dinner for their husbands, huh? Undermine women in the workplace to send them runnin' for the high hills?"

"Well, Miss Lennox, you're hardly part of this workplace. You're merely an extra, a lost voice. Nothing of importance." he smirked, nonchalantly brushing a piece of lint off of his sleeve. "It has nothing to do with you being a woman."

"That's what they always say, Donnie. But how would you feel if I called you 'sweetheart?' You wouldn't like that, would you?" I said, walking toward him but Schneider stepped in front of me.

"Kathleen, that is enough." Schneider hissed. "Now sit down and shut up."

"I don't like Kathleen either." I said in a low voice, turning around sharply and resuming my place next to Annie. Out of the corner of my eye, Micky was smirking at his shoes.

"Okay, after that incredibly ignorant spectacle," Rafelson said, glaring at me. "Today, Kirshner is going to oversee the girls and their singing. Monkees, you and James Frawley are going to work on the script we've drafted and improv. If you don't know what that is, you'll find out soon enough. Girls, go with Kirshner, okay?"

We nodded, following after the haughty man in the suit. "Oh, and Kathleen?" Rafelson called, and I whirled around. "Try to stay outta trouble."

"I'll try my best, sir." I replied mockingly, half-bowing, then trotting after Annie and Cecily who had walked ahead. After walking to a room at the end of the hallway, we entered to find some instruments and chairs. There was nothing else. Kirshner smirked at all of us, handing us a sheet of music for a song we would potentially record back-up on. My eyes scanned the sheet quickly, then laughed out loud. These lyrics were completely dull and ridiculous.

"Donnie, I don't mean to offend the writers of this piece," I said, trying to stifle my laughs. "But what the hell is this? This is not music. The Beatles are music: even their worst songs are better than this trash."

"Miss Lennox, it would do you some good to take Bob's advice to heart. We wouldn't want you to lose your job over something irrelevant, now would we?" Kirshner said, a warning tone entering his voice. Great, now I'm being threatened. I really should keep my big mouth shut, but alas, I doubt that will happen.

I raised my eyebrows as Cecily mumbled, "She almost did today and it's only eight o'clock in the morning."

Annie nodded, and I rolled my eyes. "He broke my damn guitar. I'm sorry for being upset."

"K, we don't blame you, we just think you should not have been so aggressive about it." Annie explained, putting an arm around my shoulder.

"And I found the pacifist of this freak group." I said, grinning a little as I nudged her in the ribcage. She rolled her eyes but allowed a little smile to find its way to her lips.