#and I wanted to give Eddie a cadillac just for fun
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the first time Steve sees them he hasn’t realised yet that his window opens all the way and he can crawl out onto the roof so he hears them first, Love Shack is playing loudly and when he peers out of the window he can see a horrible, beat up old Cadillac, Steve always thought they were sort of ugly but it suits the weird trio sitting in it and this weird beach town too, the roof is down and there’s a girl sat in the back, she has short hair that brushes her shoulders, her clothes like kind of grungy in a cool way and her head is currently thrown back in a loud laugh, there’s a blonde girl sat in the passenger seat, twisted around to talk to the other girl, she’s in a summer dress and it sounds like the song might’ve been her choice, it suits her, finally there’s a guy driving, he has long curly hair, he’s wearing a cropped band shirt from what Steve can see and he’s also laughing, Steve feels a stab of jealousy that they get to enjoy their day and a summer at the beach, he goes back to laying on his bed and feeling sorry for himself
the next time Steve sees them he’s figured out the window latch and he’s sat on the roof wallowing, he’s realised that his dad was being serious about his summer exile before he goes to work for him or go to college, Steve isn’t sure if he’s been accepted into any because their mail hasn’t been rerouted here, if he knew this is where he’d have ended up Steve wouldn’t have let Tommy kiss him but there’s the beat up car again, the roof still down and this time Should I Stay or Should I Go is blasting, the three from before are there again but this time there’s another girl squished into the back with them, she has dark curly hair and Steve wonders if her and the first boy are related, this time there’s another boy in the passenger seat, he has straight brown hair and a beige, plain t shirt on, Steve watches them all hop out the car and head down to the beach
the third time he sees them there’s no girls and another guy who has incredible hair, it’s long and even from the roof Steve can see that it’s soft, the new boy is wearing a bright hawaiian shirt and this time Pass the Dutchie is playing quieter than the music usually is and as they hop out the guy with the short, straight hair staggers slightly and they all start to laugh as they slowly start the walk to the beach
Call Me hails the arrival of the sad, little car next time, it’s just the curly haired pair this time, Steve thinks they’re both the most attractive of the bunch but he doesn’t have anybody to tell, the pair don’t get out of the car straight away and Steve watches the guy gesticulate wildly, the girl nods along, rolls her eyes in some parts and they talk for a little longer, then they get out the car, the guy always just hops over his door instead of opening it, Steve thinks its insanely attractive for some reason and maybe the guy takes the top spot for the best looking in this weird group of people
the next time it’s the same guy and girl again (Steve briefly wonders if they’re a couple) but this time Running Up That Hill is playing and there’s a small army of children squashed into the back seat together, all talking loudly and immediately legging it to the beach once the car stops, the guy yells and takes off after them, the girl following more slowly after she picks up a book from the car, later that day the guy with the short hair turns up in his own car and when they all come back he has his arm wrapped around the girl whilst the curly haired guy carries a redhead on his back before he dumps her into the back of his car
this carries on for a couple more weeks, usually just the ugly Cadillac and who Steve assumes is the owner, the curly haired guy, along with a rotation of seemingly random teenagers, Steve can’t figure out what they have in common, none of them have similar styles, except maybe the curly haired brunette and the small, strawberry blonde girl, the music clashes horribly from person to person and Steve is pretty sure it’s never the curly haired guys choice because he seems to grumble at the particularly poppy choices, Steve is curious but he knows he can’t leave so he watches them from a distance, he longing deep within him, he wants to laugh like that, have friends like they all seem to be, he resigns himself to a summer of people watching and hating his parents but as the summer stretches on he realises that this is just going to be his life at this point, always on the outskirts and always dissatisfied
the next day the car pulls up, Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy is cut off halfway through a chorus and he looks down to see the grungy short haired girl and the cute curly haired guy looking up at him, he lets out a squeak of embarrassment at being caught and looks away but then they’re shouting
“Hey!” “Hey you on the roof!” The girl is waving her arms frantically and the guy is grinning up at him, Steve looks around as if there is anybody else on the roof with him then waves back shyly, the girl hoots and scrambles to get out the car, the boy following her
“Come down! We see you up there all the time, come down and hang out!”
“I can’t!”
“Why not?”
“Not allowed!”
The guy takes a step back to assess the side of the house, he leans over to point something out to the girl then he’s taking a running leap at the building, he manages to haul himself up until his head is popping up over the edge of the roof and Steve quickly helps him up by grabbing his hand, it’s calloused and warm and Steve doesn’t want to let go but he does
“Come on Rob, it’s not that hard!”
“You know I can’t control my limbs!”
But she eventually clambers up and rolls onto the roof, panting and groaning but perking up once she’s face to face with Steve
“I’m Robin, this is Eddie.”
“I’m Steve.”
and suddenly Steve’s summer doesn’t look so bleak
#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#platonic stobin#stobin#steddie#chrissy cunningham#Nancy Wheeler#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things fic#steve having a rapunzel girl summer#I miss summer so I wrote this#and I wanted to give Eddie a cadillac just for fun#he'd hate it
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directors cut for WTRF? 🥺👉👈 not biased at all obviously just objective third party asking for a directors cut hmmm hmmmmm
literally how could u do this every other word in that fic is an easter egg i can't shut up about..... bestie u are about to have regrets
one thing u should know is that 90% of things in this fic have real-world equivalents and its not even like....... hidden equivalents. serie primo = serie a, for instance. this trend is going to continue and i won't apologise <3
fun fact i named the bar the Bar and the drinks after shapes because i was too lazy to come up with something actually clever
this bit
I’m grinning to myself by the time she approaches my table.
was a very intentional fakeout and if you read this and thought "she" would be lily, feel free to sue me for emotional damages
the biggest conundrum of this AU was, how are jily not going to have met in school when magic exists? the solution was, of course, having multiple magic schools. but i couldn't let one of them have hogwarts, that didn't seem fair. i know i did sort of let lily have it..... but i felt more comfortable making hogwarts a university so there was a legit reason why james wasn't there and in gryffindor (if he'd gone he absolutely would have been)
once solved, i did the fun thing of naming them! ottaline gambol's was easy, i just scrolled through the list of ministers for magic and picked a progressive one. peverell hall was a whim, made all the funnier when lily's reaction is:
Much was made at Otty’s — one of the more progressive magical schools, named for one of the more progressive Ministers of Magic — of schools like Peverell Hall and St. George’s. The latter, I know, is chock-full of pureblooded elite. Peverell Hall is supposed to be slightly better, but still.
dang, it's gonna be funny if she ever finds out james is a descendant of the guy it's named after
fun fact, i included this because peter's question was a real thought i had when reading bond and free, your inspiring writing knows no limits:
The first thing you conjure in Walking Wombat is a yellow quill...
“Why yellow?” Peter asked.
Eddie gave him a strange look. “Why not?”
i realised i'd put jily in the same conundrum they had in tis the fucking season here:
It’s only then that I remember she’s just bought us drinks. I turn back to my triangle. “Oh, shit.” I suppose I can pawn it off on one of the others.
...but of course the resolution is rather different, and i do so enjoy a james with no filter (aka default james)
I briefly lose control of my brain and my tongue. “Is it too soon to say I’m in love with you?”
by the way, no-filter james will be a theme. wild things sure do run fast but not as fast as this boy runs his mouth!
also, another interesting challenge here was making sure james has a reason to be the way he is in AU. i love playing around with james's childhood/background and seeing how that affects his character while (hopefully!) staying true to who he is. i did that in ttfs by having him move around a lot and not meet the marauders until after the flashback timeline, which is why he's less of a git — he doesn't have the level of comfort in a social setting that canon james has with hogwarts, which is basically his playground from day 2 of first year lol
here, james was probably a fkn nightmare all through school, but of course he gets a big ego check when his quidditch career is derailed. i imagine his years in italy as a continuation of that humility lesson.
I will fully admit I used to be a cocky prick. This is what comes of being a kid who grew up with everything. But one useful thing that the whole fiasco four years ago taught me is humility. I’ve learned how to ask nicely for another chance.
and so much of writing him in wtrf is juggling that typical confidence with the insecurity/fear of losing something he's invested so much in (and has seen slip away before). it's really new to me, because typically i give lily uncertain life circumstances, but i suppose it's both of them in this AU.
the car thing was... i swear didn't start out as smutty, it was purely because i wanted a way to establish lily as muggleborn in a world where the connotations of not having magical parents is very different. more to come on that!
also, come to think of it, by this metric...
I’m now in dangerous territory, since that adds another impressive action to her running tally.
...i think james is already in love with her LOL
this bit:
The street is considered indecent and the downstairs hallway would have our landlady come running at once, so if it pleases Your Honour, we would recommend the sitting room sofa.
...was actually because in draft one lily was a lawyer, but then it was funny enough that i didn't want to take it out, but NOW i realise it makes it sound a little like she's addressing james as your honour, which.... hm. but anyway, we move on
Marc Bolan begs us to get it on through the stereo, vocalising my thoughts exactly.
the song here was initially "you shook me" (h/t @keepingupwithpotters) but i chickened out because zeppelin is SO horny dfjkhgkjs
also, it gave me so much joy to read everyone reacting to lily thinking about her ex (the general vibe was "who the fuck is this guy!!! ew!!!!") — rest assured (or, unassured??) that he has a part to play in all this. anyway, this is one of my fave lines:
He’s just a person, and there’s such a relief in sleeping with James and not the myth of a guy.
because as any come together reader knows....
Just James. Just James. It was never just James.
wtrf lily will learn!
literally the whole world knows i'm obsessed with needle drops that have no subtlety at all, but this one...
We just laugh, tangled together in a sweaty heap, as “Heaven Is in the Back Seat of My Cadillac” plays through the car’s speakers.
“On the nose, isn’t it?” James says, sitting up.
...was pure luck, because i was looking up the top hits on the uk singles chart for the week(ish) this scene takes place in so that i could find a song that would realistically play on the radio, saw this, and was like omg the stars really do align
i feel like the thing i enjoy most about writing romance is the importance i get to place in noticing/looking/observing (and sometimes, not noticing!). it's just such a powerful but simple writerly tool, and god knows i am obsessed with pithy descriptions anyway, so this bit i am especially happy with:
James is already waiting, leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets. I feel as though I’m seeing him for the first time, the faint light of the flickering streetlamp catching him in profile: the strong slope of his nose, the hard line of his jaw, the curve of his smile. He studies the facade of our building with open curiosity, and I wonder what he’s looking for.
(one can only imagine james's train of thought in this moment. perhaps "ah. here lives the future love of my life"?)
“Thanks,” she tacks on at the end.
I tip my head to one side in confusion. “For what?”
“For, I don’t know. Being nice.” She laughs awkwardly. “I don’t do this very much.”
it wouldn't be a quibblah original tee em without some discourse to come about the nature of romantic/sexual relationships, would it? one thing i enjoy about this AU ("one thing" i say as if this isn't the billionth thing in a list) is that i get to write a romantic lily who's squaring that romanticism with what she perceives as the culture of the times. (this is a bit of a staple in all my characterisations of lily, but it is not often paired with casual sex, the complication of all complications!)
oh this bit literally wrote itself like i didn't even pause to think just vomited it out:
In the morning — and it must be early still — the sun streams through Lily’s sorry excuses for curtains with aggression that cannot be ignored. I crack open an eye to find myself sprawled out across her bed, quite literally spread-eagled. She’s attached to my side like a barnacle. Or a very pretty barnacle, anyway.
i'm especially proud of james's voice in this story. i don't often write first-person fic and i was worried how it'd turn out, but i think james as a character/narrator typically colours his own 3rd-person narration so strongly that it ended up a smoother transition than i'd feared!
also i just. i can't resist throwing in comic relief and i hope that this whole segment was a gentle enough preparation for the awkwardness that followed LOL
All of a sudden, the balcony door bursts open. I nearly drop the mug. “What the—”
Mary pokes her head around the corner, sporting a righteous smile. “Morning, handsome.” Over her shoulder she shouts, “He’s on the balcony!”
I blink. There’s a sound from inside the flat, as if something very large has just been dropped. Then a swear.
“Oh, shit,” I say, realisation dawning, “you weren’t looking for me, were you? It’s so loud out here—”
Mary cups a hand around her mouth and stage-whispers, “Lily was frantic.”
She’s quite violently yanked back, and Lily herself appears in the doorway, slightly out of breath. “Should’ve checked the balcony first,” she says, and closes the door before Mary can insert herself into the space again.
“Hi,” I say, which is agreed-upon best practice for greeting a woman you’ve just had fantastic sex with and ideally would like to have sex with again.
to this day i don't know what lily dropped. let's hope it wasn't expensive!
Captained the under-17 English squad at the World Cup some years back, Serie Primo’s lead goal-scorer of last year… Only an injury in what should’ve been his first season at Puddlemere mars his record. I wince reading about it and comparing it to a heap of press clippings. James Potter was hurt, and Puddlemere didn’t fancy paying for him not to play, so they shipped him off to Milan.
(you cannot imagine how much pointed interrogation of my brother it took to gather this intel.) i constantly worry that i've got dates or timelines wrong somehow — you might notice i tweaked under-17, which used to be under-19 until i realised that made no sense (even though in terms of its career importance i would much preferred it to have been u-19.... anyway). i also found out that u-17 football squads don't actually have captains but i said fuck it on that count.
but obviously i started writing this AU for the sports possibilities, only to discover i'm going to have to interfere a great deal with the Timeline (you shall see in future instalments).
god i really went through the whole fic. like i reread the whole thing to do this. here u go clare jfbghjfd
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so! here’s the Vic/Eddie nobody asked for, featuring a road bar, some country music and even a couple of punches! thanks to @anticmiscellaney for giving me great ideas and editing my awful typos. hope you all enjoy
all the songs referenced are listed at the end
Don’t touch me, I’m a real live wire (Vic/Eddie, G, 3.6k)
“Uhhh… I’m bored as shit,” Eddie lets the pool cue fall from his hands onto the table as he speaks, and Vic gives him a raised eyebrow. They’ve been shooting pool for a couple hours now, but he’s noticed Eddie’s attention drifting away from the game for the past thirty minutes.
“Let’s go someplace,” Eddie insists.
Vic props himself up and nods obligingly, “Okay,“ he looks up for a moment, musing, and remembers there’s a place he’s been meaning to visit. “Let’s go to Bull’s Bar-B-Q.”
Eddie tenses up, only for a moment, but the gesture doesn’t escape Vic’s attention. He knows him, he can tell there’s something up, so he follows Eddie out of the room and down the stairs and waits for his answer.
“Nah, don���t feel like it,” Eddie says nonchalantly, “pick somewhere else.”
Vic squints his eyes. What is Eddie trying to hide from him? Is there something, someone at the bar he doesn’t want Vic to run into? “I wanna go to Bull’s.”
“Well I don’t,” there’s a tang of irritation in Eddie’s voice as he puts on a flashy yellow and blue polyester jacket, “so let’s go someplace else.”
Vic reaches to open the front door and smiles slowly, looking at Eddie with slightly raised eyebrows; he takes a bit of amusement in making Eddie nervous. And if there’s something he doesn’t want him to know about at the bar, then Vic’s going to find out.
“Well I’m going to Bull’s,” he takes his car keys out of his pocket and walks out into the driveway toward his Cadillac, “You’re welcome to come if you want.”
He knows Eddie will follow, and sure enough, he huffs loudly behind him, making a show out of his sulking as he gets into the car, “Vic, you’re impossible.”
In the way over Eddie turns the radio’s dial one way and the other every two minutes, doesn’t let a single song end before he’s changing stations. Every time it looks like he’s finally picked something to listen, his arm shoots out and he’s at it again. Eventually, Vic clicks his tongue irritated and reaches across to slap Eddie’s hand away.
“Leave the fucking thing alone, you’re getting on my nerves,” he glances at Eddie, and tries again to get an answer, “What is up with you?”
“Well for starters I don’t wanna go to that stupid cowboy bar of yours.”
Vic takes a long drag off his cigarette, peers at Eddie before answering, “Why not?”
“I don’t fucking feel like it,” Eddie drags the words out, like he’s trying to make a stubborn child come to reason. Vic doesn’t raise to the bait.
“Why not?”
“What the fuck does it matter why?” There’s a vein starting to swell in Eddie’s neck.
Vic shrugs indifferently, “Well I wanna go because I haven’t been there since I left the can. Nobody’s forcing you to come.”
Eddie throws up his arms out like that’s the most stupid thing he ever heard, “Oh, yes, I can just get out here in the middle of fucking nowhere and walk back home.”
“Just sayin’.”
They’re both dancing around the issue, pretending they don’t know there’s something Eddie’s not saying. Vic doesn’t push, just keeps driving until he sees the neon sign creep up behind some trees.
They pull up into a place on the side of the road with a big parking lot full of pick-up trucks and motorbikes. The blinking sign on the front displays the face of an angry bull with big red horns, along the name “BULL’S BAR-B-Q”. Vic parks the car and gets out, then comes around the back to open Eddie’s door with a grin. Eddie rolls his eyes, pouring sarcasm into every word as he speaks, “Who woulda thought, prison’s turn you into a real fucking gentleman.”
Vic ignores the acid in his voice as he follows him toward the door.
The room is crowded, dimly lit with fake orange kerosene lamps on the tables and neon signs on the wall with the names of beer brands. Gang bikers in leather vests mumble among each other in the dark corner tables, and men dressed in cowboy outfits take their girls out to dance on the open floor by one side, where a young man who’d made a great Waylon Jennings softly sings …Someday when we meet up yonder, we’ll stroll hand in hand again… if some cowboys hug one another and start dancing together, nobody seems to notice.
As soon as they’re inside Vic notices Eddie’s attempt to be subtle about the way he’s giving the whole place a glance, stretching his neck and looking left and right. Vic sneaks closer in silence until he’s perching over his shoulder and whispers quietly on his ear, “See a table you like, Eddie?”
Eddie jumps startled and shoots back a glare at Vic, slowly blinking, “Do not fucking do that to me Toothpick.”
Vic can’t help a low chuckle as he settles a hand on Eddie’s neck and squeezes softly, “Why you so hot under the collar, huh?”
Eddie seems to be satisfied with his survey of the place, because he shrugs away, turns around and sits down on the first table that he finds available, immediately signaling for a waitress. They order beer and start drinking in silence, and soon he seems to unwind, losing his nervous edge, and they even manage to have a conversation about Waylon Jennings’ 70s transition from dapper genteel cowboy to scruffy, brash outlaw without barking at each other.
Vic is saying, “He peaked right after he changed his looks, nothing tops Dreaming My Dreams,” he starts singing quietly, “I’ve been a fool, I’ve been a fool, forgiving you each time that you’ve done me wrong…”
Eddie makes a dismissive gesture, “Yeah, but what about Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love To Town? That’s a country classic.
“Yeah, but that Nashville sound shit is so impersonal, he was just doing what everybody else was doing. The other stuff is raw and unique, he’s singing about his struggles in life” he tries to take a swig of his beer before realizing it’s empty, “He looked hotter in the sixties, though… when he sang Your love scares me to death girl, it’s the chokin’ kind…,” he purrs, and gives Eddie a wink.
Just then the bar’s band wraps up a song, and after a brief applause the singer starts crooning and strumming his guitar, “The only two things in life that make it worth livin’…”
Eddie chuckles, “Well, speaking of the devil.”
Eddie’s laughter and the stupid conversation makes Vic remember how much he missed having fun with him while he was in jail, and suddenly he doesn’t care too much about whatever crap he was hiding anymore; it was probably just Eddie’s usual bullshit, he must have been caught cheating at cards or something like that. And Vic’s been giving him shit all night for it. He looks up Eddie sideways, smiling smugly.
“Hey, you wanna dance?” he could swear he sees Eddie blushing a little, but maybe that’s just the beer.
“What am I, your girlfriend?” Eddie says with exaggerated offence, and Vic tilts his head and scratches his brow like he’s seriously considering the question. Eddie huffs, “Nah, you go.”
“Your loss,” Vic grins and stands up and moves toward the dance floor with swaggering steps.
Vic dances alone for the duration of half a song until a young redheaded girl in a denim skirt approaches him with a grin.
“Hey stranger, you wanna dance?” she has a chirpy voice and a soft southern accent. Vic offers her his hand and his most charming smile.
“Sure, sweetheart.”
She takes his hand and places the other on his shoulder, coming nearer but not quite touching him; Vic doesn’t close the distance but rests his arm around her waist when they start moving to the music.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Vic is a head taller than her, so he has to tilt down his head to look at her eyes.
“Is it obvious?” She’s the kind of girl that smiles with her whole face and voice, and she’s cute, too, but Vic doesn’t really care about it, he’s just dancing with her to make Eddie a bit jealous.
“I’m from Kentucky,“ she continues, "but I moved out here because I wanna be an actress.”
He shoots a glance at their table and can’t repress a smile; Eddie is looking at him with an angry expression, mindlessly turning one of his golden rings in his finger. Just as he wanted.
Vic turns his full attention to the girl again, “An actress, huh? How’s that working out for you?” If he’s gonna make Eddie jealous at least he’s gonna enjoy himself.
They dance around for a couple of songs, talking about the weather in Lexington and the traffic in LA, until Vic looks up again to watch Eddie. But he’s not looking back; instead, he’s sitting on the edge of his seat with a tense stance, looking at the man sitting by his side and trying to put as much distance as possible between them. Vic furrows his brows and lets go of the girls hands without peeling his eyes from the table.
“‘M sorry, sweetie, my friend’s calling me.” He doesn’t see the disappointed look on the girls face, but hears her voice as he walks away.
“Oh, well… okay, it was nice meeting ya’.”
He circles tables and shoves people out of his way with his eyes fixed on Eddie and his companion. He seems like a really big man even seated, bigger than Vic, with broad shoulders and hairy arms resting on top of the table. His cowboy hat keeps his face in the shadows so Vic hasn’t yet seen his face when he stands near the table, interrupting whatever the man was whispering to Eddie.
“I don’t think I know you.”
Eddie looks up alarmed, eyes wide and face twisted with something very close to fear. Vic squints his eyes, confused, and then he looks at the man for the first time. He’s got a broad face, with a dimple on the chin, high cheekbones and a perfectly straight, pointy nose; his eyes are dark as the curly strand of hair that falls from under the hat in the middle of his forehead. He is handsome, and that makes Vic’s gut squirm with anger.
The man chews on a gum slowly, giving Vic a disinterested look up and down before speaking up, "I don’t think I know you.”
Vic chuckles like he finds the answer remotely funny, but he won’t be intimidated by some rowdy rancher. The stranger keeps a straight face.
“I’ll rephrase…,” Vic says, “who the fuck are you?”
Now the man does laugh, a low chuckle as he swings his arm up and around Eddie, resting his hand on his shoulder. “I’m a friend of Eddie’s. Sal’s the name.”
Vic shoots up his brows in surprise at the friendly gesture. He wants to know exactly what the fuck is up with this guy and his eyes go to Eddie in search for an answer, but Eddie’s just standing still, paralyzed and shooting nervous glances between Vic and Sal.
Vic gives the guy a friendly smile now, “Well, Sal, me and Eddie were having a good night, so why don’t you go fuck off,” he makes a swiping gesture with a hand and widens his grin.
“Vic-,” Eddie makes an attempt to intervene but Sal interrupts him.
“Nah, I don’t think I will,” The man reclines his chair back, balancing himself in the back legs with a smug grin on his face and looking like an absolute asshole, “You see, Eddie and I have been very good friends for… what, two years now?” Vic’s muscles tense listening to him, but he lets Sal continue speaking. “And I’ve never seen you so I think you’re the one who should split.” He draws up his thumb from Eddie’s shoulder to stroke his face, which prompts a cringe from him.
"Don’t fucking touch me,” Eddie snarls.
“Now Eddie,” Sal clicks his tongue and uses a chastising tone, “you weren’t saying that the last time I saw you.”
And that does it for Vic, who falls down into a chair next to the man and with a smooth motion grabs him by the collar and gets really close. With his other hand he pulls up the leg of his jeans, trying to draw his blade out of his boot.
“Buddy, if you don’t let go of him right now I will-” he feels a sharp pressure on his stomach and recognizes the shape of a gun’s barrel. His reacts with a surprised laughter, but even he can tell when the odds are really tipping against him, so he opens his left hand to let go of the cuff oh his pants..
“C'mon pal, I don’t think there’s anything that interesting down your boot. Hands where I can see ‘em.”
Vic clicks his tongue and obliges, releasing his collar and drawing up both palms slowly over the table. Sal takes the opportunity to bring Eddie closer and stand up, forcing the other man to get up with him. Vic doesn’t miss a beat and gets on his feet too, hands still up, pressing his chest forward into the gun with a smile on his face. Sal stands tall and strong, a few inches over him, big enough to scare anybody with a hint of common sense. But Vic doesn’t scare easy.
“If you take one single step I’ll break your neck,” he threatens calmly.
Sal’s face hardens as he tightens his grip on the gun, “I don’t think you wanna play this game, pal.”
“Oh, I wanna play,” Vic speaks slowly, “You wanna shoot me?” he points at his own chest with his hands, amused, “C'mon, tough cowboy, shoot me.”
“Vic…” Eddie starts speaking.
“Shut up Eddie,” Vic doesn’t need Eddie getting in the way, the whole fucking point of this is to get this guy away from him, “you, why don’t you pull the trigger if you’re such a tough boy, huh?”
“Vic, fucking stop it.” Eddie’s hurls through closed teeth; Vic can see his face starting to redden from the tension and anger bubbling up in him, but Sal still has an arm around his shoulder, gripping him tightly.
“Cmon.” Vic spurs again, speaking lower and pressing forward, and for a moment he thinks he might have to start throwing punches to get a reaction from the man, but Sal seems to be thinking better of it already; starts releasing the pressure from the gun, drawing it backwards slowly to place it in his hip holster again.
Vic grins, tilting his face up with arrogance, “That’s what I thought…”
The hand around Eddie’s shoulder relaxes, and Sal takes a slow step back as he squints, “I’ll be seeing you, Vic…”
“Yeah, I hope so.”
The man walks backwards slowly, keeping his eyes on Vic until he disappears among the people of the bar.
Vic exhales slowly, distensing his body for the first time in a while. He isn’t sure what the hell just happened, but he knows two things: he wants to kill this Sal guy, and he is very, very pissed at Eddie. He turns to glare at him with eyes cold and angry; unlike himself, Eddie has not relaxed at all.
“Vic…”
“Now who the fuck was that?“
"Vic, I can…”
“Let’s get out of here.” Vic starts circling the table toward Eddie as he gets a few crumpled bills from his pocket, throws them among the beer bottles without trying to count them, then he grabs Eddie by the arm and starts walking fast toward the door.
“Hey!” Eddie yanks his hand away hard, but still matches Vic’s walking pace. “I swear to fucking God, if someone else grabs me again tonight.”
“Oh yeah?” Vic turns to confront Eddie, crowding him, but he still speaks slowly “Is there someone else who’s gonna come take you for a dance, huh? Any other guys I oughta know about?” Vic chest feels like it’s on fire, and he thinks if Eddie gives him any more shit it might be his breaking point tonight.
But Eddie looks back at him like he’s gonna start shooting sparks out of his eyes any moment, “You know very damn well that’s not what I meant, you fucking nutcase,” he walks around Vic out the door and Vic follows behind.
Eddie crosses the parking lot in a few long paces and gets immediately in the passenger seat of the car, closing the door. Vic could get in the car, drive away and act as if that guy didn’t just threaten to kill him and got away with it; it’s probably the best thing he could do, considering he’s still on parole. But he doesn’t move toward the car’s door, instead, he approaches Eddie’s window and gives the glass a light tap. Eddie rolls his eyes as he rolls down the glass.
“What?!”
Vic perches himself on the window, points at Eddie with his finger, “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”
“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘don’t bring a knife to a gunfight’, you moron?” Eddie’s squinting his eyes like he can’t believe Vic would be so stupid, but he doesn’t take offence, “Get back in the car!”
Vic is already standing up and walking toward the bar.
As soon as he gets in he starts scanning the place methodically, with a sharp look on his eyes as he walks along one wall so he never loses sight of the whole room; the guy is nowhere to be found. He makes his way to the bathrooms and inspects them too, with no luck. He closes a fist in frustration before walking back outside. When the chill night air hits him he takes a slow breath, brings his arms to his hips and gives the parking lot a glance, too; maybe the idiot is staying behind in his car waiting for Vic to break his face.
When Vic sees him he can’t believe his eyes. Sal is perching over Vic’s own Cadillac’s window, his hat hanging from his neck and thrown over his upper back, in the same posture Vic was not five minutes ago, speaking with Eddie and giving his back to the bar’s door. He might be big and good looking, Vic thinks, but the man sure ain’t the sharpest fella.
Vic approaches slowly from behind, stealthily, and when he’s close enough he brings his right hand back, taking impulse for a moment before swinging it forward with full force and an open palm towards Sal’s head; as soon as he comes in contact he grabs the hair and shoves him face first towards the car door. The knock of metal against forehead makes a loud thud.
“Shit!” Eddie pulls back, taken by surprise.
Vic uses the moment of confusion to take Sal’s gun from his holster, then stands back and throws it toward one end of the parking lot over the roofs of the cars; when he turns back around Sal’s already recovering, left fist up in front of his face while he swings the right. A cold punch lands on Vic’s jaw, another on his sternum. He stagers back for a moment, struggling to breath, but regains his balance quickly. He lets out a sigh and grins.
“So you can hit too, huh?”
He takes one step back to gain momentum, then throws himself with full force toward Sal’s waist, knocking him on his back with Vic on top of him. He scrambles up, grabs the man’s hair again and yanks upward, then back down, hitting the crown of his head against the hard pavement. He does it again. Sal grabs his shirt and pushes back, trying to get him off, but Vic’s got him pinned to the ground, resting his full weight on his ribs, the man almost unable to breath. Vic lets go of his hair and throws a punch to the eye, the jaw, the nose, starting to breath heavily himself. For the first time, he’s vaguely aware of Eddie’s amused howling and laughing through the car’s window.
“Heh, he sure didn’t see that comin’,” he taps the door of the car with a pleased grin, “Cmon, that’s enough, you’re gonna kill him.”
But Vic hasn’t had enough. He reaches for the razor in his boot, panting slightly from the strain of the fight, and opens it carefully, then brings the blade to the man’s face, resting it flat on his cheek. Sal’s face is smeared with blood from his nose and the open cuts in his brown and cheek, and he is gasping for air. Vic moves his face closer, his lips almost touching the other’s ear, and he whispers.
“If I ever see you again I’m gonna give your pretty face a fix-up,” he tilts his face sightly sideway to look him in the eye, “You want that, huh?”
Sal shakes his head faintly, keeping his eyes on Vic’s, but he doesn’t speak.
“Yeah, ’s what a thought.” He gives him a last grin and finally gets up, brushing one hand back through his messed up hair; with the other he closes the blade by pressing the blunt edge against one leg.
He walks around the car and gets in the driver’s seat, immediately puts in the key and starts the ignition, then maneuvers out of the parking lot without giving even one last glance to the man still lying on the pavement. Eddie’s giggling dies away as he sees Vic’s livid expression, and Vic’s glad because he doesn’t want Eddie to think for a moment that he’s off the hook.
“You have a lot of explainin’ to do.”
“Yeah, I guess I do, huh…”
As they drive back to the house Vic steals a glance to his right; even in the darkness of the road he can make out the younger man’s frown, his lower lip between his teeth. Vic wonders if Eddie missed him too.
***
1. yes they did have hot angry sex later.
2. also in case you read my posts where i detail my writing struggles yes Rock Hudson was my reference for Sal
3. Songs in the fic:
Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain by Willie Nelson
I’ve Been A Long Time Leaving (But I’ll Be A Long Time Gone) by Waylon Jennings
The Chokin’ Kind by Waylon Jennings
Luckenbach, Texas (Back To The Basics Of Love) by Waylon Jennings & Willie Nelson
title of the fic comes Psycho Killer by The Talking Heads
#toothpick bitchslap#vic/eddie#ficlet#fic#my writing#reservoir dogs#vic vega#nice guy eddie#mr blonde#blonde/eddie
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Various Artists—Just a Bad Dream: Sixty British Garage & Trash Nuggets 1981-1989
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Just a Bad Dream tracks a starkly primitive, luridly pulp-ish, early rock influenced British subculture that drew from surf, R&B, punk and rockabilly. Here over 60 tracks, British bands channel mostly American influences — the Sonics, the Cramps, the Standells, Eddie Cochran, Chuck Berry — with flagrant irreverence and oddball humor.
Though loosely organized and fluid, with members of one band regularly turning up in two or three others, the scene’s undeniable center of gravity was Billy Childish, here represented by four different bands: Thee Milkshakes, Thee Mighty Caesars, The Delmonas and Thee Headcoats. “Little By Little,” from his pre-Headcoats outfit Thee Mighty Caesars, boils the basics down to essence, block-simple, endlessly repeated guitar vamps, tumble-down-the-stair-drums, blunt blues verses about love gone bad. Thee Milkshakes cover of the Vince Taylor song “Brand New Cadillac” erases the Clash’s fingerprints and returns the cut to its primitive glory. The Delmonas, an early iteration of Thee Headcoatees and one of the few cuts with a detectable female presence, cut 1960s girl group glamour with lo-fi insouciance. And the lone, live track from Thee Headcoats, “Youngblood,” is Childish at his rough-housing, psychotically focused best, all extraneous elements removed, the platonic ideal of a rock song drenched in fuzz.
Childish’s compatriots also crowd the track listings. His partner in the Medway Poets, Sexton Ming, makes an appearance in the blustery, electrified skiffle of “You Can’t Polish a Turd” (Childish plays guitar), as well as art-croaked cuts by Auntie Vegetable, the Mindreaders (an offshoot of Wreckless Eric’s Len Bright Combo) and the Gruffmen. The Prisoners, from nearby, infused the Medway Sound’s stick-figure rock ‘n roll with spiraling psychedelia, as on the organ-laden 1984 track “What I Want.”
Trash rock, as the genre is sometimes called, grew up through the cracks in a British scene just getting past first wave punk and later dominated by slicker, shinier guitar rock, but as this collection demonstrates, connections between scenes and genres were common. Naz Nomad and the Nightmares, whose “Just Call Me Sky,” closes out disc two, was the garage-rock side project of the Damned (minus Captain Sensible). The Jesus and Mary Chain, later a mainstay of shoegaze, kick in a goofily trodgy “Vegetable Man” (the B-Side to 1984’s “Upside Down”). And Creation honcho Allan McGee gets his surf on in Biff! Bang! Pow!’s “The Whole World Is Turning Brouchard!” Miki Berenyi, later of Lush, turns up playing bass on the title track, “Just a Bad Dream,” with an all-star-trash line-up in “The Bugs.” The boundary between pedal-obsessed psychedelia and stripped-bare garage punk was vague and permeable, and lots of people crossed it.
Like all Cherry Red reissues, this one comes with contemporary photos and band bills and in-depth track-by-track commentary. Punk curator John Reed, Mike Spenser of the Cannibals, Medway Poet Vic Templar and Lenny Helsing of the Green Telescopes contribute context and amusing detail with their personal essays. Still, 60 tracks is a lot, especially in a genre that gives every indication of not taking itself seriously. If you’re looking for instantly recognizable, stone-cold forgotten classics (the how-did-the-world-ever-miss-this-song phenomenon), you’ll likely come up short. Still, there are some good cuts, some entertaining oddities, some interesting byways and just generally a whole lotta shaking going on. File under fun but not exactly essential.
Jennifer Kelly
#just a bad dream#uk garage and trash 1981-1989#cherry red#jennifer kelly#albumreview#dusted magazine#box set#compilation#trash rock#punk#rockabilly#medway sound#billy childish#1980s
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Leo Fender, Les Paul and the Birth of the Solid-Body Electric Guitar Industry
Interesting timing on a number of fronts...chiefly being that a book about this very subject is being released shortly.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve really dove into all the various design details that Leo Fender engineered in the 1950′s, and my favorite parts have been talking about the designs in a historical context. Design features like the foam mute on the P-Bass “ashtray” that helped combat issues with primitive amplification.
And while I’ve alluded to things like “there not being third party parts manufacturers at the time,” I never really touched on the industry in general. Given that some of what I’ve written the past few weeks might be fresh in the memory, it’s a good time to look at the two titans of the guitar world, and how things came to be.
***
The top picture is the two most famous electric guitar models ever made. On the left, a reissue 1957 Gibson Les Paul “Goldtop.” On the right, a reissue 1957 Fender Stratocaster. The bottom picture is the third most famous electric guitar model, an original 1952 Fender Telecaster.
Fun exercise time...I’m going to take every guitar player I mentioned in my Greatest Guitarist Series, and mark if they primarily played one of these three models. I’m going to strike any classical musicians, (non-fusion) jazz musicians, acoustic-primary guitarists and guitarists who made their impact before the Korean War.
Jimi Hendrix STRAT
Eddie Van Halen *MODIFIED STRAT
SRV STRAT
Andres Segovia
John McLaughlin
Jimmy Page LES PAUL
Eric Clapton STRAT (also played Les Pauls)
David Gilmour STRAT (has played all 3)
Steve Vai
Danny Gatton TELE (has played all 3)
Julian Bream
Chet Atkins
Pat Metheny
Duane Allman LES PAUL
Les Paul LES PAUL
Ry Cooder STRAT (has played all 3)
Yngwie Malmsteen STRAT
Keith Richards TELE (has played all 3)
Wes Montgomery
Tony Iommi
BB King
Charlie Christian
John Petrucci
Prince TELE
James Hetfield
John Jorgenson TELE
Chuck Berry (has played Les Pauls and Teles...famous for ES-335)
Robert Johnson
Steve Howe (has played Les Pauls and Teles...famous for ES-175)
Joe Pass
Al DiMeola LES PAUL
Django Reinhardt
James Burton TELE
Brian May
Jerry Garcia (has played Strats and Les Pauls)
Paco de Lucia
Paul Gilbert
Eric Johnson STRAT (has played all 3)
Brent Mason TELE
Shawn Lane
Muddy Waters TELE
Buckethead
Billy Gibbons LES PAUL (also plays Teles)
Slash LES PAUL
Larry Carlton (has played all 3, but his nickname was Mr. 335)
Frank Zappa STRAT (has also played Les Pauls)
Christopher Parkening
Marty Friedman
Robben Ford TELE (has played all 3)
Jeff Beck STRAT (has played all 3)
Buddy Guy STRAT
Lowell George STRAT
Mark Knopfler STRAT (has played all 3)
Ritchie Blackmore STRAT
Elmore James LES PAUL
John Lee Hooker
Joe Satriani
Woody Guthrie
Hank Marvin STRAT
Kirk Hammett
Dimebag Darrell
Jerry Reed TELE
That is a decent representative list of great guitar players, and those three models...the Fender Telecaster, Stratocaster and the Gibson Les Paul...account for the easy majority. And even if a guitarist wasn’t known for one, they likely recorded with one at some point in their careers.
It’s easy to know where to attribute Fender’s success...Leo Fender was an engineering genius. Gibson, however, had an established reputation long before they ventured into the solid-body world...but they wouldn’t have made that transition if not for Les Paul.
***
The State of Things Today
Before we get into the feud, it’s probably a good idea to get to know where each of these two companies are today. The companies we’re going to talk about in 1952 bear little resemblance to each in the modern era, having both been passed from numerous ownership groups.
I’ve talked a lot about Leo Fender’s ouster at the hands of CBS...which led to the company’s darkest period which took more than a decade to dig out of. CBS themselves were ousted by a group of Fender employees in 1985, and the company they started (they couldn’t use the original facilities) now boasts annual revenues well over $500 million.
It’s reflected by the company’s offerings. Never attempting to be high-end our boutique, Fender’s brilliant branding allowed them to manufacture the same instruments that Leo designed, keeping costs low and making it easy to freshen up long-standing iconic models.
Gibson on the other hand, filed for bankruptcy last year. Long derided for resting on the laurels of their name, Gibson is another victim of predatory private equity...being used merely as a conduit to acquire more debt. Bad news intensifies...they’re also responsible for having strict international regulation regarding the types of wood used. Gibson got in deep doo doo for using illegally farmed woods, and varieties of woods that had been prohibited from foresting due to excessive use (Brazilian rosewood).
Their offerings were staid and stale. Any new innovations were seen by the guitar market as clumsy and hideous. And, making things worse, the nature of their guitars’ construction is much more expensive and labor-intensive than Fender’s ever could be.
Fender will live to see the next 50 years. Gibson likely will not...certainly not under this ownership group.
***
This is Les Paul holding his prototype solid-bodied electric guitar, nicknamed “The Log.” Yes, it looks ridiculous. No, another solid-bodied electric guitar did not exist at the time.
Les Paul had a longstanding relationship with Gibson. Gibson was good to him. Being a jazz guitarist, the whole Gibson lineup was perfect for Les, and they gave him ample ear to chew with all his (at the time) crazy ideas. It was a great partnership.
Me being a Fender fanboy and my comments regarding their business should by no means suggest that I’m not a fan of Gibson guitars. I absolutely love them, especially the Les Paul model. They feel like the guitar version of driving a Cadillac...smooth, comfortable, refined, classy.
But, like I said above, Gibson was a long established company even in the late 1940′s. They didn’t make gimmicks. They made works of art out of the finest woods that produced these beautiful, natural, organic tones. Even their electric hollow-body models replicated an acoustic tone as close as possible. Philosophically, it was going to take something major to get Gibson to budge.
"If you don't do something, Fender is going to rule the world."
-Les Paul
***
When Les Paul received Leo Fender’s prototype in 1951, he knew what it meant.
Sure, it was a gift in the sense that Leo Fender wanted him to have that instrument, but it wasn’t just an instrument, it was an overture. Gibson was a guitar behemoth that dominated an industry that was teetering on the edge of being revolutionized. Fender was that metaphorical disruptor. Both were already well aware of each other.
Fender wanted Les Paul on board, plain and simple. They were hardly even a real company at that point, and getting someone of Les Paul’s status on their roster would be a coup of epic proportions. From a marketing and branding perspective, Les Paul was a guitarist that could’ve established their brand before they even released a product catalog.
But that wasn’t it.
Les Paul’s reputation for having prototype solid-bodied guitars had created waves. He was a recording maven, had a giant audience, and whether Gibson wanted him to or not, exposed people to the sounds possible with a solid-bodied guitar. Leo Fender wasn’t a musician, but he was making the same type of noise within in the industry.
Fender sent out one of his right-hand men who reported back to him on the gift-giving. That dude thought Les Paul was kind of an egotistical dude and didn’t think much of it. Les Paul himself actually did like the instrument a lot...a huge amount given what he said to Gibson execs...and as the two guys who were leading the solid-bodied guitar revolution, there was equal parts kinship and rivalry.
*Les Paul with Leo Fender’s gift...a 1951 “Nocaster”...called that because Fender hadn’t come up with the name Telecaster yet, and there was no model under the Fender logo.
I don’t think it needs to be said that Les Paul ended up staying at Gibson.
***
In 1952, Gibson released their first solid-bodied model that had Les Paul’s name on it. It would define their company. Also in 1952, Leo Fender released the Telecaster (and Precision Bass), the genesis of the company that would grow into the largest guitar manufacturer in the world.
The sheer amount of music that’s been recorded using Les Pauls and Telecasters (as well as the Strat) is simply mind-boggling. It’s almost impossible to quantify.
While the electric guitar industry might be well past the point of peaking, they’re still a major part of American culture. Something that’s come to define us internationally as much as baseball or apple pie. And it’s these three models from Fender and Gibson that so many people are able to instantly identify, that have recorded so much iconic music, that will live on well into the future like a Stradivarius violin or Steinway piano.
And for a brief period in the early 1950′s, it almost came to be that the two most prominent figures in the modern electric guitar world joined forces. Almost. It’s a shame they didn’t...might have been a good thing, given that each was given full creative control without the other’s presence...but the modern musical world was largely impacted by these two guys tinkering around in their basements.
It’s a cool story and easy to let your imagination run wild about what they could have done together.
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March 21, 1964
Mabel sits at her desk spraying her hair in place, and applying her mascara and eyeliner. She isn’t looking to go steady with Johnny Boyd but she still wants to look good around him and any other man at the beach tonight.
*Car Horn Honks Twice*
“Mabel Honey. I think that’s your friends. Don’t want to make them wait!” Her Aunt Doris Says.
Mabel looks in the mirror on her closet door and makes some final touches before running down her stairs and out the door.
Mabel: “Don’t wait up Auntie Dore!”
Freddy waits outside the door to let Mabel in the backseat of Ed’s Blue 53′ Cadillac
Freddy: “My Lady” he said as he gestured his hand toward the car door and tips his imaginary hat and chuckles
Ed: “Hey Mabe, How’s it going?”
Mabel: “Good, Hey got a cig and light Eddy?”
Ed reaches into the chest pocket for his yellow box of ‘Paul Mauls’ and a match.
lights the cigarette and hands it back to Mabel
Mabel: “Thanks man”
Freddy gets in the car while Ed starts driving. Ed turns up the transistor radio to hear the announcer better
Radio Announcer: “Today in Houston Texas, Houston Press, one of the three daily newspapers published its final issue yesterday. When press tried to ask workers and partners what’s the next step, they said no comment.”
*Radio Static Played* Fred begins to try and get a signal and finds a stations. and extends the antenna. The Zombies start playing.
Ed: “Fred Dude, Turn off this British shit”
Freddy ignores Ed and taps his hand on the outer door of the car to the beat. Eddy doesn’t like the British Invasion. He feels The Beatles are corrupting our generation.
We pull up to The Hop and Ed Runs inside to grab Marty and Suzi. Then they get in the car and drove down to Colt State Park.
When they pulled in to the Beach lot the place was bumpin’ people all dressed up dancing by the fire. Kids sitting up at the life guard post rollin’ papers and drinking pop and beer. Girls and Guys talking and laughing. Everyone gets out of the car and looks around.
Johnny: “Hey Mabel!”
Mabel looked over towards the sand lot as she waved to Johnny
Johnny: “For awhile there I almost thought you weren’t going to come.”
Mabel: “Yup, I’m here.”
Johnny: “I’m glad. Really.” Johnny Smiles at Mabel while giving her a quick wink.
Ed: “Hey Johnny how’s it hanging man?”
Johnny: “It’s good man. How’s your dad’s shop?”
Ed: “Good, it’s good. Busy but can’t complain”
“Hey Fred, Eddy Come Dance with us!” Yelled Suzi as her and Marty start walking over to the fire.
Johnny: “So Mabel, You want to go dance? Or maybe smoke some grass? Sonny’s older brother got some good stuff from a guy in Washington during the protest”
Mabel: “ Yeah sure. That all sounds great”
Johnny takes Mabel’s hand and walks her down to the beach.
Sonny: “Ay Johnny Who’s the Betty?”
Johnny: “Sonny Lamas meet Mabel Mortagua”
Sonny Looks Mabel up and down
Sonny: “Well fit my dear boy”
As the night went on Johnny showed Mabel around stopping every now and again to introduce her to some of his friends. Exchanging stories, Passing joints, Dancing and laughing. After a few hours Mabel went to go recoup with her friends. As some people started leaving with people and the night grew older, Mabel walked to the car to grab a cigarette alone.
“Soooo Johnny Boyd” Rocco said as he came up behind Mabel and wrapped his right arm over her shoulders
Mabel: “Don’t tell me you’re jealous!” She said with sarcasm
Rocco: “No.” Rocco tries to play it cool as Mabel laughed.
Mabel: “You have to be seriously buggin’ to think I would like a Jock like Johnny”
Rocco: “I mean. I don’t know, you’re smokin’ he has a reputation of being ‘charming’ it isn’t that far of a stretch kid.”
Mabel: “So you are jealous.”
she smiles and they walk over to sit down at the gazebo by the parking lot.
Rocco: “What do ya’ say we ditch the Beach Rats and go have a party of our own eh kid?”
Rocco leans in to kiss Mabel’s cheek and neck.
Mabel: “Rocky I don’t think we should do this right now.”
“Why not?” he says then goes in to kiss Mabel on the lips. She turns her head away to dodge it.
Rocco: “What’s the matter with you Mabe, Huh? If we were doing this a day ago you would be all over me. Are you late?”
Mabel “No I’m not late! I just don’t want anyone to see us.”
Rocco: “Oh you mean your new friend Johnny? Is that it?”
Mabel “No, But I don’t want that type of reputation. It can ruin a girl. especially in a small town like here, word travels fast you know that Rocky.”
Rocco gets up to walk away. Mabel puts her hand on his arm and pulls him so her turns toward her.
Mabel: “Hey, How bout you pick me up tomorrow yeah? We can go out on the bike, maybe go to a movie. Come on Rocky. Don’t be mad at me”
Mabel pulls Rocco in and he tries to resist kissing her.
Rocco: “You’re lucky I like you kid.”
Mabel smiles and they kiss.
Marty: “Mabel! Hey Where are you!? Hey have you seen Mabe?-- Oh Hey there you are. Where have you been?” Marty giggles as she jogs over to the gazebo “This parties so Groovy!”.
Mabel: “Hey sorry Marty. I just got caught up talking to--” Mabel pretends to forget Rocco’s name
Mabel: “I’m sorry what’s your name again?”
Rocco: “Rocco, Rocco Moretti.” Rocco awkwardly smirks at Marty to indicate saying hi.
Mabel: “Right, well nice to meet you Rocco. See you around.”
Marty grabs Mabel’s wrist to pull her as she starts to walk them toward the fire area and babbles on about the party.
“Hey! There they are.” Freddy says as he signals Marty and Mabel to come sit with him, Ed and Suzi. They all start talking and chilling.
After some time went by and the fire dimmed down everyone began to leave. As Mabel walked toward Ed’s car with everyone Johnny called her to wait.
Johnny: “Hey so I had fun with you earlier. We should hang again sometime, maybe alone?”
Mabel: “Maybe John, I’m busy these days”
Johnny: “Well when you aren’t busy let me know, We can go get some burgers and fries at The Hop or something.”
Mabel: “Will do Johnny.”
Mabel turns around and jogs toward the group to catch up.
#1960s#long reads#long read#read me#discover#60s#teenager#dear diary#journey#journal#the zombies#british invasion#the beatles#cigarettes#chapter 2
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