The jet has been in the air for a good while now, high above the desert clouds somewhere between Phoenix and Memphis, part of their 1967 North American tour.

Davy is in the row ahead, leaning his head back against the seat, eyes half-closed as he talks to Micky.

You’ve liked Davy since the first time you met him. But then you remember him dating all over: girls in every city, nothing serious, always moving. He's telling Micky about the airport crowd in Phoenix, how the screaming gets so loud it rattles in his chest. Micky keeps interrupting to imitate the girls shrieking, which only makes Davy laugh harder.

Half the time he meets them through friends of friends or at some party after a show; other times, he’ll get introduced backstage or on a set somewhere. Sometimes he takes a girl out to dinner. Or he’ll just invite her to whatever hotel the Monkees are staying at, make dinner with her, put something on the “telly,” talk for hours, and send her home.

He’s said it himself, more than once. He’s too wrapped up in the studio, the show, the career. He won’t let himself get involved with anyone, not really. He has girls in different cities he writes little notes to. If he’s passing through their town again, he’ll give them a call, take them out, go swimming, laugh, make memories. And then he’s gone again.

He swears he’ll settle down someday. He wants a home, a family, the whole thing, just later, after the career stuff is steady.

Micky leans back in his seat, facing you, practically vibrating with excitement. “Tonight’s gonna be crazy,” he says. “Wait until you hear the crowd.” He grins at you.

Peter drifts down the aisle, brushing past a flight attendant. He slips back into the empty seat beside you. He settles in, turning slightly toward you.

“Need anything?” he asks quietly. His voice is low, gentle, like he’s checking in without drawing attention.

Seating arrangement: [ You ] [ Peter ] || [ Mike ] [ Micky ] [ Davy ]

Davy shifts automatically, angling himself toward Peter so they’re facing each other across the table.

Across the actual aisle, Mike has just woken up from a nap, eyes still adjusting to the cabin lights. He stretches once, slow and quiet, then settles back in to listen to the conversation happening in front of him.