Classic Rock Bands One-shots

Draft Of A Story Im Working On Not Band Related

1966

Philip sweeps his parents' shop. He was freshly twenty-two years old and was trying to make a name for himself with his art. Georges his baby brother who's eighteen was a little slower and had to be at his own pace, the doctors described him with having "mild retardation" when he was a lad so Georges was heavily homeschooled, he never had the grand schooling like his older brother Philip did.

Philip perks his head up when Georges comes out of the back with a dusty box, 

"It's some of papa's collectable comic books."

 "God some must be as old as me then." Philip shakes his head, his curly reddish brown hair bounces, setting the broom aside he helps his brother put the box on the counter.

The bell rings letting them know the shop door was opened and Georges and Philip look over. There's Honey-Rae Villemarette, her and her mother work odd jobs since her father Tumas died in the race riots a year ago.

Philip doesn't tell her to use the negro entrance by the dumpsters, his father would have never allowed that. And not with George looking so love sick at her. Honey-Rae's tawny colored skin glisten in the early morning sunlight trickling in from the shop windows, "Mr. Badeaux?" she faces Philip, "Do you got any work for me to do today, sir?'

Philip looks at her scrawny frame she's built like a little fawn. A gust of wind could seemingly knock her over from how railing thin she was, "What did I say about the whole Badeaux thing? Call me Philip." 

Honey-Rae nods, "So about that work, Philip?"

"You and Georges can stock the shelves and fill it with comic books and other goodies from the back. How does that sound?" 

Honey-Rae tries to flex, "I'm strong, Philip. I don't need Georges' help." 

"I got to keep my workers safe. Two in the back when stocking. I'll pay you 6 franc even for your troubles." 

Her whiskey colored eyes widen and she nods grinning showing her gapped front teeth, ''Thank you! Thank you!" she races into the back her skirt flutters.

Philip puts a hand on Goerges' shoulder, "Listen to me you lay a hand on Ms. Villemarette and our shop could get shut down. Understand?" 

Goerges nods, "Yeah because I'm white and she's a negro.. I understand the law, I'm not a retard no matter what they say." he walks into the back hands in his pockets head lowered, Philip feels bad.

Honey-Rae is paid for her work and the shop closes up for the night. The brothers pile into the apartment above the shove its cold and barely any lighting,

 "What are you doing?" Philip asks turning on the oil lamp,

Georges was holding up one of their mother's dresses against himself. It was a beautiful pale blue with golden trim. Georges drops it startled that his brother came in behind him so soon, normally Philip would have a cigarette and talk to the cute German girls.

'I-I," Georges looks away, he lies, "I miss mother. She had to go on that vacation to America." 

''I-I," Georges looks away. The old stutter came back which made his lisp worse, which is a way to tell if he lies, "I miss mother. She had to go on that vacation to America." 

Philip puts a hand on Georges' shoulder not seeing the lie, "I miss her too. I'm kinda jealous really, I dream of going to America and making it big with my work." 

"Yeah." Georges sighs softly putting the dress back into the black suitcase.

Philip goes out onto the balcony for a smoke and Georges locks his bedroom door. He listens quietly ear pressed against the door for any signs of his brother coming. When the coast was clear he undresses looking at himself in the mirror. Georges' scrunched his nose up and looked at his chest and mile long legs, he looked ugly. Not a speck of body hair on him even though he's eighteen. He's built lanky and bony maybe it was due to the food rations he got as a kid.

Georges slides the dress onto his thin body. The cool silky material felt smooth against his bare skin, the awful thing is as he looks at himself in the broken mirror he loved how he looked. Georges has never felt more beautiful in his whole life before, he twirls in the dress letting the material rub against his legs. 

There's a banging on the window and he squawk diving down trying not to flash anyone hs knickers. The window is opened letting the chilly autumn air in and Honey-Rae rolls in with a letter between her dark lips. She spat it out. Honey-Rae's eyes scan her friend closely, "You look handsome, Georges. Can you read me this letter my brother Abe sent from Vietnam?" 

Georges takes it shivering from the cold air, "Yeah. Let me change first." 

"Why? You look handsome." 

Georges changes quickly into night clothes, "Because I can be killed for wearing a dress." he clears his throat and begins to read it, "To the Villemarettes it is with heavy hearts to inform you that Abrahám Villemarette has gone missing in action."

Honey-Rae pauses, "Abe's missing?" 

Georges nods, "According to the letter." 

Honey-Rae begins to cry and all Georges can do is hold her in his arms, comfort her and tell her everything will be okay even if it's a stack of lies.

"Honey why was Abe fighting in that country, he's French." 

Honey-Rae wipes her eyes on her blouse and Georges looks down at the floor when she stretches it so far up you could see her bra, "He lied about being American to fight. He's always wanted a war."

"Foolish man." Georges shakes his head, his thick curls bounce and he fixes his glasses.

Philip knocks on the door, "Georges? I hear you and Honey talking.. Is everything alright? Does she need a place to stay at again?" 

Georges unlocks the door, cracking it open some, "I'll explain in the morning please go to bed." 

And Georges closes the door in Philip's face and relocks it. He looks to Honey-Rae and the childhood friends hatch a plan.