London, June 29, 1967

The second the double doors to the Buckingham Suite Ballroom swing open, the sound hits you.

Cameras clicking in rapid bursts, TV crews with huge lights pointed straight at the long table. More than 300 press packed wall to wall, and all of them lean forward the second the Monkees walk in.

It’s overwhelming, and you’re not even the one they’re here for. You’ve been in a few episodes of the show, you hang around sessions, travel with them sometimes, and your name shows up beside theirs in the teen magazines often enough that the reporters recognize you. They know you’re close with the guys. You’ve given interviews before.

Peter goes first. He gives a few little bows. Then he drops into his chair, elbows on the table immediately, hand sliding up to his cheek as he surveys the room.

Mike follows. He takes his seat beside Peter… then turns back, giving you a low gesture with his hand.

You swallow your nerves and follow him, taking the seat right next to him.

Davy slides into the chair on your other side. He gives the press that polite, camera-conscious half-smile, the one paired with that tiny lip bite he does only when he’s genuinely uneasy. His eyes sweep the crowd of flashing bulbs, and for once he looks a little shaken.

Micky is last. He sits… and immediately pops back up halfway, craning over the table to look at all the photographers like he’s trying to spot someone he knows. He waves, grins, gives another wave, then finally drops fully into his seat, still bouncing.

Behind you, the Monkees banner hangs across the wall.

The camera flashes hit so rapidly. Microphones get shoved forward.

Then the questions start.