#70 bands

[modernmanblues]

chances

CH 1: VACATION

plot: American photographer Leah Walker is ecstatic when she’s presented with the opportunity to spend the summer of 1975 in Stockport, UK to take photographs of local English groups. Given her history of taking photos of big acts such as The Rolling Stones and The Doors, she is taken by surprise when told that her first clients will be the up and coming Manchester-based group, 10cc, who have kept a low-profile until recently, after gaining worldwide stardom from their hit I’m Not In Love. Leah knows little about the group and gets acquainted fairly quickly, but what she doesn’t know is how much trouble she’s about to get herself into with the group’s beloved lead guitarist, Eric Stewart. She has all summer, come to think of it. The possibilities are endless.

themes: excited girl, sleepy girl, the new girl in town!

“We’re glad to have you here.”

June 27, 1975. The time is 9:30 am.

“Good morning passengers, this is your pilot speaking. We will be landing in London’s Heathrow Airport shortly. Please be sure to fasten your seatbelts as we may experience some mild turbulence while landing. Thank you.”

The pilot’s soft, gentle voice awakens me from my deep slumber. There’s always something comforting about hearing the English speak, I can’t help but admire that about them. I squint at my surroundings as I attempt to reorient myself in the conscious world. I turn to my right and peer out the small window next to me. The city below me is gradually becoming more visible as the plane careens through clusters of thin clouds scattered throughout the firmament we have made our journey on.

I gaze at the vastness of the city below me and amuse myself as I take note of the little details that outline each section of land. Everything just seems miniscule from up here, and things appear to be moving as if time is suppressed–cars are sluggishly making their way through the busy highways, trains appear to be moving in the same manner, and cargo ships seem to be moving through deep blue English waters at idle speed. My eyes follow where the ships are headed and from a distance, I take note of a familiar landmark. Two gigantic pillars crowned with four steeples, and each pillar is separated by a few bridge-like structures–two horizontal walkways up above, and below it is a much lengthier bridge, connecting one part of the city to another, and is separated by two central bascules to allow large ships to pass.I bite my lower lip as a tiny smile breaks across my face and I find myself cupping a hand over my mouth, slightly self-conscious about being seen smiling like a lunatic by fellow passengers adjacent to me. Tower Bridge, I think to myself.

 As we soar over the Tower Bridge, my mouth breaks ajar upon realizing just how massive this great piece of architecture is. We continue to traverse the skies, eventually reaching another familiar landmark–a golden colored clock tower with an off-blue steeple nestled on top, and is sitting adjacent to this wide gothic-like building. Both structures are well camouflaged, given their congruent color schemes. 

“Good heavens, this must be Big Ben.” I mutter under my breath.

 I feel my lips break into a teasing smile from the corner of my mouth as the location finally dawns on me.

 London, England. A city I have longed to visit since childhood, and I am in complete disbelief that today I am finally putting that longing to rest. This is a business trip of course, so London will not be my first destination, but I will certainly be visiting at some point during my travels. After all, I will be here for the remainder of summer so I will have plenty of time for excursions. I begin to experience a complex brew of emotions as our arrival to this remarkable city becomes more imminent.

 In my ten years working as a professional photographer, never once have I traveled outside of The United States of America for work and for this very reason, I consider this a significant milestone in my career. My wonderful supervisor Dan graciously offered me this opportunity, and I cannot thank him enough for coordinating a deal with our company’s UK headquarters to make this all happen for me. Oh, God Bless his little soul. I owe him so much.

“Attention passengers, this is your flight attendant speaking. Please make sure your seatbelts are fastened and that all large belongings are stowed away either in the overhead bins or the space underneath your seats. Thank you, we will begin our descent shortly.” A female voice trills through the overhead speakers. I can hear her smiling through her voice.

We gain more visibility of the land below us as the plane gradually descends from this firmament. I watch as the plane careens through a sea of clouds, a mere collection of thick, white precipitate which appears to be distributed evenly throughout this heavenly concourse.

I sink back into my seat and rest my hands gently on my lap. I close my eyes and recite a short mantra in my head. Almost there..everything will be fine..almost there..everything will be fine..

I feel the plane trembling in a way that instills some degree of discomfort in me. With my eyes still shut, I grow slightly more aware of every sensation happening in my body. My heart is now accelerating, and I can almost hear every beat pulsating through my ears. I feel a thin layer of sweat saturating through my palm. I inhale deeply, then exhale slowly, steadily. Anxiety..anxiety..anxiety..anx-

The plane makes a graceful landing, barely making any impact. I open my eyes quickly for some reassurance. The aircraft has now in fact met the ground and is darting swiftly through the runway.

 We gradually slow down in speed as we prepare for disembarkment. I look over to the elderly couple sitting next to me. Just before our plane’s departure, I managed to strike up a conversation with the husband named Dave, who is sitting right next to me, his lovely wife Wendy sitting immediately to his left. Dave briefly shared that he and his wife live in New Jersey and are visiting a nephew in London who will be having a wedding in two days. A wedding, how lovely..I wonder what that’s like..

Dave looks at me with a huge grin, his ocean blue eyes twinkling. There is evidence of aging on his face as seen through the gentle creases of wrinkles on his forehead, and the crow’s feet that show faintly at each corner of his eyes. He displays some degree of youthful radiance despite his advanced age.

 “We finally made it, hm? Wasn’t so bad, was it?” he says to me softly, some gentle reassurance in his tone.

I twist my lips into a tiny smile as I give him a gentle nod. 

“Mhm, very much so.”

 My head travels to Wendy’s direction and her entire face brightens as our eyes meet. It’s astonishing how she’s maintained her silver hair tied in a neat ponytail through our long journey. Her cherry red lipstick has barely faded.

I grin at her widely. “Wendy, you holdin’ up okay over there?”

“Just fine, dear. And how about you?” her face breaks into a smile.

“Oh you know, just peachy!”

The plane comes to a complete halt. I quickly turn my head to look out the window to see that our aircraft is now stationed and ready for disembarkment.

 “Passengers, we would like to welcome you to London’s Heathrow Airport. The current time is 10:30 am, which is a bit earlier than our scheduled time of arrival of 10:45 am. Please gather all your belongings and carefully check your surroundings before leaving the aircraft to be sure you haven’t left anything behind.” The flight attendant announces overhead with such genuine enthusiasm.

“Hey listen, it was a pleasure meeting ya kid, and good luck on your picture taking gig!” Dave exclaims as he and Wendy rise from their seats, belongings in hand, and prepare to make an exit. The couple both wave at me goodbye, giving me big, teethy smiles as they navigate their way through the foyer.

 “Thank you.” I mouth, beaming at them with a huge grin as I wave back at the two of them.

 I remain seated and wait for all other passengers to exit the plane. I don’t have much to carry as I only have two carry-on items. My favorite brown corduroy backpack, which contains all my clothes and some personal items I will need on this trip. I packed light and since I brought a good amount of cash with me, I figured I’d go clothes shopping on my days off if I need more clothes on this trip. This backpack has begun to show some wear, its brown color has slightly faded. It’s been through so much with me since high school, so some wear is expected. My other carry-on is a large dark green duffle bag which contains the most essential set of items I will be utilizing on this trip, my photography equipment.

“After you, miss.” A soft, gentle voice greets me.

I look up to see this tall, thin framed blonde fella towering over me and my eyes soften the moment they meet his. Such gorgeous, piercing blue eyes.     

I break away from his gaze before this young man regards me strangely for staring at him longer than intended.

“Oh, um-”

“It’s just us two left on the plane, but you look like you’ve been waiting a while to get off this plane. Please, go ahead of me,” the young man interjects, smiling and not taking his gaze off me.

I feel the temperature in my face begin to rise. I snatch my belongings, sliding a backpack strap onto my shoulder as I arise from my seat.

Just before walking away, I smile at him with pursed lips as I gaze into his eyes.

 “Thank you. Have a good one, dear.” I say to him in a rather caressing tone.

I stride along the narrow foyer, anxious to finally be off this aircraft. We’ve reached the conclusion to our journey and I can hardly contain my excitement. I attempt to maintain my composure and reorient myself to my priorities. I glance at my watch to check the time.

“Shit! It’s 10:45. The train leaves at 12:30. Fuck, I better get my ass in gear!” I mutter under my breath as I increase my pace.

I reach the plane’s exit door and stand briefly on the apex of the airstair sitting just outside the doorway. I inhale deeply, catching a whiff of sweet English summer.     

“I’m here..I’m finally here.” I whisper to myself as I cautiously make my way down the airstair, clinging onto my belongings. I reach the stair’s base and pace myself as I make my way into the airport’s terminal.

 Inside the terminal, my eyes immediately find the sign pointing towards the direction of taxis and buses. I follow suit and bolt through the exit door, frantically scanning my surroundings for the next available taxi.

I glance at my watch again and see that it’s ten to eleven. Crap, I only have an hour and a half to get to the train station.

 A feeling of relief courses through me as a taxi cab pulls in right in front of me. The driver, as if on cue, almost immediately rolls down his window. I stoop down to be at eye level with the driver.

 “Euston station, please,” I say to the driver curtly, my voice slightly quivering.

The driver simply nods at me with a blunted expression on his face without saying a word. I swiftly open the cab door and slide right in while clutching my bags. I situate myself into my seat as the driver begins to pull away.

 I swing my backpack over to my lap and gently place my duffle bag next to me. I look out the window to get my first glimpses of the city. We leave the airport’s vicinity and enter the outskirts of the city. I watch as we trek through London traffic. I find it a little bizarre being driven in a right-handed car. Everything is on the wrong side of the road! I amuse myself with this thought. The driver turns into a quieter, less tumultuous street. People left and right are out and about. Bright contagious smiles plastered on everyone’s faces. I feel a tiny smile break across my face as I make further observations about my surroundings.

“Do you mind if I ask where you’re headed today, love?” the cab driver breaks the silence, sniffing as he wiggles his mustache. His thick, cockney accent takes me aback. Accents. Something I’ll have to get used to hearing while I’m on English turf. I notice him glancing at me through his rearview mirror. 

 “Hm? oh, here for work actually.” I respond, a hint of bashfulness in my voice.

 “Is that right? What do you do for work then?” he follows up, piquing with curiosity.

 “I’m a photographer. I’m one of several in a group of freelance photographers back in The States.”

  “An American photographer, eh? How lovely. Well, welcome to England. Is this your first time visiting?       

“Yes.”

 “Great. Well I’m sure you’ll have a fantastic time here.” 

 I don’t respond, but I smile at him through his rearview mirror.

 “Do you like it then? Taking pictures and such?” he inquires, trying to maintain continuity in the conversation.

  “Oh yes! As a matter of fact, I dreamt of being a photographer when I was younger. I enjoy doing it very much and find it to be a rewarding career.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to take some fantastic shots of people and things while you make your way through England.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

  We continue to navigate our way through these quaint London suburbs. I notice cars parked on side streets, something that one might expect to see in any major city. We pass through several locally owned shops adorned with whatever it is they are trying to sell–flowers, trinkets, home decor, and some other things I can’t quite make out because we’re moving so fast. We pass by this big, beautiful white church where a small gathering is currently taking place just outside of it. A couple just got through their wedding so it appears. Bright smiles on everyone’s faces, it’s such a beautiful thing to see.

I take my camera out of my duffle bag and check to make sure I have a new roll of film in it. I snap a few photos of my surroundings and I bite my lower lip while a tiny smile breaks across my face. Beautiful London town..I wish I had more time to take a tour of London today, but I’ll have to save that for when I have the day off.           

The driver veers off to his right and gets onto the highway and we’re off for a bit. I stow my camera back into my bag and zip the bag back up. I sink back into my seat and sigh deeply. I lean my head against the headrest and gander at my surroundings while the vehicle maintains momentum on this long, and what feels like an endless road. My eyes begin to feel heavy, and I feel light as a feather as tension gradually leaves every part of my body. I feel so tranquil..I just need to close my eyes for a second, just for a second..

“Oi! no sense of wasting the day away in a deep slumber..we’re in Euston, love!” The driver’s voice startles me awake from my slumber. I narrow my eyes as I attempt to reorient myself at my surroundings.

 I check my watch for the time. It’s 11:45 am. Crap, I’d better hustle!

I compensate the driver a total of 15 pounds in cash, which includes a 5 pound tip and bid him farewell, belongings in hand. I take my wallet out of my denim jacket and search for my train ticket. I snatch the ticket and quickly tease out which platform my train is leaving from. Platform 11-Stockport.

You’re gonna love Stockport. I smile as Dan’s words echo in my mind.

 I begin to pace myself as I make my way towards the platform. My anxiety begins to escalate and ignites some extra energy in me that I begin to run..faster..faster..passing each platform swiftly. 5..6..7..8..9..10..then finally, 11.

 I reach the platform and cling onto my bags like my life depended on it. I made it. There’s a woman ahead of me and I inhale deeply then exhale to help calm my nerves as I watch her hand her ticket to the conductor. I’m next in line.

 “Ticket, love?” the conductor asks me sweetly, a tiny smile spreads across his face as he awaits my response.

I smile at him as I step up and hand him my ticket, taking note of the shiny emblem of the UK flag adorned on his navy blue lapel. He peruses my ticket then nods, and gestures for me to enter the train. I grin at him as I step onto the train.

 “You may sit wherever you’d like, dear,” he exclaims, leaning in close to me before I proceed to find a seat.      

  I give him a gentle nod then turn towards the direction of the main cabin. Surprisingly, the train feels barren, given the small amount of passengers on board. I find an empty booth just two rows down from the exit and slide into a seat. I set my backpack next to me and place my duffle bag on the floor. I breathe a sigh of relief as I mentally commend myself for getting here on time.

I settle myself as I hear the train operator make an announcement overhead. More announcements!

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome aboard! We will be departing momentarily. Today, we are traveling northbound for Stockport in Manchester. This will be a three and a half hour journey so please feel free to move about the cabins as you wish. Select snacks and beverages will be available for purchase at our canteens located in a few sections of the train. Thank you and we hope you have an enjoyable experience with us,” the operator declares in a monotone voice, his odd-sounding English accent piquing my interest. It almost sounds halfway between a Scottish and an Irish accent, and not as posh sounding as the cockney accent. This must be how they talk in Manchester.

The train begins to pull away from the platform and I peer out the window to observe the world outside of this vehicle. There’s nothing to see at this moment, except a lengthy row of trees as we move further away from the station.

It’s time to start thinking about work, and I have to remind myself that this is a business trip. I search my backpack for the letter that was sent to Dan from a Jonathan King in Stockport. Dan reassured me that the letter will serve as general expectations as I delve into my first task of the week. I pull the letter out of my bag, unfold it and begin to read. I notice that it’s all typewritten:

Greetings Daniel,

I am thrilled to hear that you are able to send one of your talented photographers to take beauty shots of my favourite clients, 10cc. I want to assure you that these are four very delightful young men and they are quite elated to be having this photoshoot. We agreed on June 27th at 16:00 as the day and time that the photoshoot will take place. I anticipate that the lads will be through with rehearsals around that time and are well aware that the session will take place at approximately 16:00. Please remind your staff member to be mindful of the time and arrive promptly as these boys have a strict schedule. I have indicated the address to the studio down below. We are very much looking forward to meeting you and we appreciate your services.

Sincerely,

Jonathan King

Record Producer

Strawberry Studios

3 Waterloo Rd, Stockport SK1 3AZ

10cc? Are they some sort of a band, I wonder? I’m afraid I’ve never heard of them. And what a strange name for a band..I allow these thoughts to brew in my mind for a moment but I’m only baffling myself further the more I think deeply about all this. If they are musicians, I hope they are pleasant and not pompous like some..

I feel my eyelids getting heavy again. I’m struggling to get past the jet-lag, and I’m finding it difficult to stay awake for long periods of time. I succumb to another slumber session. I lean my temple against the window and watch as the train speeds through the tracks. I look back at the city, which is now becoming  indistinguishable as we grow more distant from it.    

 We finally move past the city and we reach a long stretch of rural land. We speed through multiple acres of fertilized land, the perfect medium to grow all types of crops on. There are certain sections of land with a small population of cows grazing on grass. I feel as if I’m being lulled to sleep just watching the world move so briskly before me. My eyelids are getting heavier now..that tranquil feeling is back. Tension is gradually leaving each muscle group in this body of mine and at this very moment, I feel light as a feather. So delicate, so fragile, so..

“Passengers, we have arrived in Stockport! This is our final destination. Please be sure to check surrounding areas carefully to ensure you have gathered all belongings and nothing is left behind. Thank you and we hope we provided you with an enjoyable travel experience. Have a lovely day and safe travels, everyone!” The operator chirps overhead and I immediately awaken. I narrow my eyes as I try to scan and process my surroundings. I look out the window and see a huge sign on the platform that reads Stockport.

“Finally,” I mutter under my breath. A tiny smile spreads across my face as I come to realize that what was once just a fantasy is now becoming reality.

  I swing my backpack over my shoulder and clutch my duffle bag. I happily march off the train and conveniently, my eyes land on the sign giving directions to the nearest passenger pickup area. Almost immediately, a taxi cab pulls up right next to me. The driver rolls down his window.

“Where to ma’am?” the driver beams at me with a huge grin, I can’t help but notice how prominent his dimples are. 

“Right..um..Alberta Street, please and thank you.” I smile brightly at him as I slide into cab while clutching my bags.

The driver pulls away and once again I lose inhibition as I watch us navigate our way through these busy English streets…

“‘ere we are, Alberta Street.” the driver looks back at me, smirking.

“Hey now, thanks. Take it easy.” I grin at him as I hand him some cash and I exit the car swiftly.

He rolls down his window just before taking off.

“Take care, miss.” he says while giving me a gentle nod.

“You as well.” I respond, a tiny smile creasing my face.

I watch as he drives away then turn to examine my surroundings. The neighborhood here is reminiscent to the suburbs near home, in Brooklyn. Most of the dwellings I’ve seen so far on this trip are made of brick. They remind me so much of the townhomes back home in Brooklyn, most of which are made of brick as well.

I hear Dan’s voice echoing in my head: 11 Alberta Street. It’s about a 3 minute walk to the studio. And try not to party too hard while you’re over there, kid. I smile at the thought.

Dan was kind enough to let me stay in his family’s Stockport flat while I’m here on business. I’ve only been with the company for 5 years yet I feel that I’ve built a pretty solid rapport and a sense of camaraderie with the people I work with..something I truly take pride in.

I march along the lot to search for building #11 and to my surprise, my eyes quickly find it. I snatch the keys to the flat from the front compartment of my backpack and unlock the front door. I’m immediately greeted with a nice floral scent wafting across the foyer.

I shut the door and make my way to the living room area and find this mustard yellow armchair to set my bags on. I run my hand along the chair, its texture appears to be made of velvet. I take a few minutes to assess my temporary living space. I walk over to the fireplace and notice just how impeccable it looks. It looks as though it’s barely been used judging from the mint condition of the furnace, and the three small logs stacked on top of it that appear freshly chopped. I run my fingers across the mantelpiece and pause as my eyes land on this small, oak brown pendulum clock that’s sitting right on top of it. I trace the exterior of the clock and notice that the numbers are written in roman numerals. The clock shows that it is now 3:30 pm. The shoot is at 4 pm. CRAP!

Right above the mantelpiece is this gigantic mirror. I check to make sure I look presentable, professional. I do my best to conduct myself in this manner, especially in terms of work. To my astonishment, my hair isn’t as disheveled as I thought it would be after all this traveling, and I am impressed that my eyeliner has not smeared. I take my wallet out of my denim jacket and throw it in my duffle bag with all my photography equipment and I bolt through the door, locking it before heading to the studio.

Dan’s words echo in my head once again: Easy to get to. If you walk straight through the alley way across the street from the flat, you’ll end up right on Waterloo Road. Look for Strawberry Studios. I follow this path and it doesn't take me long to get to the end of the alley. Across the street, I see the huge sign that Dan was talking about and written in silver italic lettering are the words Strawberry Studios, an image of a strawberry buried right in between those letters. I glance at both sides of the street and decide whether to chance it. I take a deep inhale and breathe out slowly, and clutching my duffle bag, I sprint across the street. Heart pounding, body temperature rising and I feel a serotonin boost as I fill my lungs with the warm summer air. So exhilarating. I reach the opposite street and I control my breathing before carrying on forward. And just from that little excursion, I can already feel a tiny bead of sweat trickle down my temple so I wipe it off with the back of my hand.

I march forward and pause in front of the studio. I look up and marvel at the words Strawberry Studios which appear magnified now that I am up close.  I’m here..this is it. Another one for the books! I bite my lower lip to try and stifle a smile as I take a moment to process all of this. I step onto the doorstep and take one more deep breath before ringing the doorbell. I press the doorbell gently and I hear a low buzzing sound coming from inside the studio. I run my fingers through my hair with one hand while clinging onto my duffle bag with the other.

The door swings open halfway and standing right in front of me is a young, petite blonde with piercing blue eyes. She’s wearing a black-and-white striped blouse and black trousers.

“Hello. May I help you, dear?” Her face immediately brightens with a smile. Her apple cheeks give her a rather youthful glow.

I clear my throat before speaking. “Um..yes. I’m Leah. Leah Walker. Here to take pictures?” I feel as if making an inquiry rather than providing a substantial introduction.

“Ah, there she is! I- WE have been expecting you, Ms. Walker.” A man’s voice resonates from behind the young woman.

A tall, slim looking fella appears from behind her. His brunette hair is cut about mid-length, and his shaggy bangs are slightly tousled across his forehead. He ogles me from head to toe through his rectangular specs. A tiny smirk interrupts the blunted expression on his face as he meets my gaze.

“Oh Jonathan! this is-” the young woman pauses as the man carefully brushes past her to get close to me.

“Well don’t be shy! Come on in, Ms. Walker.” Without asking, he takes my duffle bag and takes me by the hand as we enter the studio’s premises.

“Kathy, would you kindly tell the boys to meet us here for some brief introductions?” The man raises his eyebrows at Kathy.

“Oh yes, right away, sir!” Kathy grins at him before scurrying off into the rehearsal room.

“I apologize, this is so much to take in right now. Mind if I ask, but are you Jonathan King?” I feel some warmth in my face as gazes at me with his dark brown eyes.

“Mhm, you are absolutely correct, madame.” He smirks at me.

“Well it is my pleasure to meet you, Mr. King.” I wipe the sweat off my palms against my jeans and shake his hand. I glance at my duffle bag which he’s been clinging onto this entire time, and I’m beginning to feel embarrassed about his wholehearted accommodations thus far.

“Mr. King-”

“Please. Jonathan.” He continues to smirk at me.

“Um, Jonathan. My bag. I can-” I’m interrupted by the sudden presence of a shoulder brushing past me swiftly.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-” the young fella starts to give a genuine apology, but pauses as he locks his eyes with mine.

He gazes at me with his light brown doe eyes. His dark brown hair is just above shoulder length. His bangs are neatly styled in a curtain fringe. I turn to the other young man who is accompanying him. He looks about the same age, and appears to have a similar hairstyle, though this one is slightly shorter in stature and husky in frame. I turn my attention back to the fella who bumped into me. He has not taken his gaze off me. I peel my gaze away from him as I feel my face getting warmer.

“Eric! Lol! You came in at just the right time! I want you to meet the photographer, Leah.” Jonathan gives me a look of concern. There is some degree of uncertainty in his tone, “if you’re alright with being called that, of course.”

I clear my throat. “Oh yes of course! Just Leah is fine.” I smile at Jonathan, then peel my gaze, feeling bashful about being surrounded by all these men.

I stiffen up as I look everywhere but him. From the corner of my eye, I notice how he has kept his gaze on me. I tense my jaw and I feel a tiny lump travel down my throat as my anxiety kicks in. Stop looking at me..stop looking at me..stop look—

“Leah..” the young man whispers my name in a slightly melodic tone.

“Yes?” I turn quickly to face him.

“Hi..” he walks up to me slowly with a bit of swagger in his gait. I look past him to avoid locking eyes with him as he gets close to me.

“Look at me, Leah. I don’t bite..I promise.” He says caressingly, giving me a child-like grin. I sense a bit of sarcasm in his tone. He smells strongly of pot and aftershave. He’s higher than a kite.

I look into his tantalizing, light brown eyes. They have a slight tinge of pink in them, which validates my suspicion that he’s under the influence. Despite this, I can’t help but notice how his eyes slightly twinkle, like two shiny stars in the night sky, just when the light hits them in the perfect spot. Whether it’s due to substance or this is simply their norm, the reasoning seems, at this point, quite convoluted for why his eyes are so mesmerizing. I stand dumbfounded as he maintains his gaze on me. He’s so..stunning.

“I’m Er—”

The other young man suddenly brushes past him and I am taken aback when he steals my hand and gives me a long, vigorous handshake.          

“Well what’s a pretty young lady such as yourself doing in these parts, eh?! Anyways, welcome, welcome to the state-of-the-art Strawberry Studios! I am your host for today, Lol Creme, and this right here is my partner-in-crime, Eric Stewart!” Lol gives a long-winded, whimsical introduction as he maintains our handshake. I’m beginning to feel some discomfort in my arm.

Eric breaks the handshake as he brushes past Lol and he stands before me once again.

“Eric..” I mutter under my breath.

“Yes?” Eric piques with curiosity.

“So they call you Eric, huh?” I respond rather coolly.

“Mhm. And they call you, Leah, yeah?” He smirks at me. His response seems particularly suave.

“Yes.” I respond curtly without taking my gaze off him.

He doesn’t respond, and we’re both now standing here studying each other’s gaze. I feel a fluttering sensation in my stomach. I bite my lower lip softly to stifle a smile.

“Hang on a minute. Now where have you two been lurking? I’ve been looking all over for you!” Jonathan breaks the momentary silence.

“We were just taking a break in the loo, Jonathan.” Lol exclaims matter-of-factly, tutting his tongue and giving Jonathan a disgruntled look.

“Right. We’re not children, Jonathan. We can take breaks whenever we wish.” Eric chuckles, rolling his eyes at Jonathan.

Jonathan takes a stroll towards Eric. He stands close to him, their noses almost touching. He cocks his head to the side.

“And you expect me to believe that the two of you weren’t doing any funny business while you were on break hm, Stewart?” he narrows his eyes at Eric, his lips twisting into a smile off the corner of his mouth, “I wasn’t born yesterday, I know what you two were doing. You two have been smoking pot again, haven’t you? What have I told you about that?!”

“Sod off, King! Mind your business.” Eric scoffs, shaking his head.

Eric places his hand on my back and smiles broadly at me. It baffles me how he can look so young and mature at the same time.

“Sorry about that, love. Come. Let’s say hello to the others.” He leads me into the rehearsal room, Lol and Jonathan following behind us.

As we make our way into the rehearsal room, we are met by two other young men. They could almost pass as twins with their thick, black curls and similar facial features, though one of them is taller and has a much thinner frame.

“Eh! Kev and I were just about to come out and look for you.” The young man states matter-of-factly to Eric.

“Oh well that’s alright then. We’re all here, yeah?” Eric chuckles, “Graham. Kev. This is Leah. Leah, meet Graham and Kev.”

Graham extends a hand, and I firmly shake it. 

“Pleasure. Graham Gouldman. Bass guitar.” Graham says curtly. He looks at me with sleepy eyes, his lips twisting into a smile.

“And I’m Kevin Godley. The local jester. Most people call me Kevin, but you may call me the jester.” Kevin twirls his finger in a circular motion as he bows his head slightly.

I giggle at Kevin’s little commentary. “Well I gotta say gentlemen, you are quite an amusing bunch from what I can tell so far.” I glance at Eric whose face brightens the moment I meet his gaze.

“We’re glad to have you here.” Eric says in a soft, almost celestial tone. I notice some tension leaving his facial muscles.

“And I’m glad..very glad to be here.”

“Alright children, let’s get to work!” Jonathan exclaims, sounding business-like. He storms into the rehearsal room with my equipment.

Oh, right. Work. I forgot about that…

———————————————————————————

next chapter>>

please visit my masterlist if you would like to see some of my other work :))

[eroticlamb]

debbie harry photographed by chris stein , 1976

“I was taking pictures of everything around me, among them Debbie ... I was always aware of her astonishing looks and the effect she had on people.” - chris stein (me, blondie and the advent of punk)

[riphertoshreds]

debbie harry performing in paris, 1978.

[negativegrl]

shirts that go hard: rock n' roll edition

[wh0-is-lily]

Courtney Love wearing Stevie Nicks's clothes with Melissa Auf der Maur for a photoshoot, 1997

[possible-streetwear]

Cosey Fanni Tutti

[miamia-meow]

Brand new footage!!! (Screaming🥹😭😍)

Keep Yourself Alive (2024 Special Edition)

[benoits-neckerchieves]

Happy birthday, Freddie !!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

The only pics i could find of him in my camera roll are ones with cats, but i think he’d be quite happy about that actually

[jarofalicesgrunge]

Misfits

[atomic-chronoscaph]

TGIF

[eroticlamb]

Debbie Harry and Chris Stein photographed by Roberta Bayley, 1976 ♡

[riphertoshreds]

Debbie Harry at Coney Island circa 1977.

[daytrippergilmour]

How it feels listening to 70s prog rock

[70sgroovy]

stevie nicks, lindsey buckingham, & christine mcvie photographed by sam emerson, 1976

[80sclassics]

Duff just being his pretty self. 😍

[90sheartsclub]

Freddie Mercury with his cats.