Rock 'N' Roll Singer

𝗦𝗜𝗫

I turned up the volume on the radio, despite Bon's incessant request for me to shut it off.

"Why?" I grinned, fully knowing the reason.

"I just don't wanna hear it, alright? They've gotta be playing some Lynyrd Skynyrd somewhere." He had one of the band's shirts on that night—black with white lettering across his chest. I didn't peg him for the kind of guy to like American southern rock, but if I've learned anything from being around him, it's not to assume things from his appearance. Yeah, he looked more like he just got out of jail than a guy asking a chick out to a drive-in, but he was relaxed. The muscles, tattoos, and dirty look in his eyes were just his hardened exterior. I could sense the man inside, who I felt comfortable around, and I wanted to be around him whenever I could.

Still, I turned up the volume anyway.

Baby, baby, try to find
A little time and I'll make you happy
I'll be home, I'll be beside the phone waiting for you

Bon buried his face in one hand, peeking through his fingers at the road. He was probably looking for somewhere to either pull over and beat my head or drive off of to end the misery.

"I think it's cute." I mused.

"I don't do cute, Marie. Never wanted to, anyway. I'm Bon Scott."

"Looking at you now, I'd never have known that you were in the Valentines. I had some of their records when I was a kid."

The Valentines were a group from the late 1960s; they wore puff-sleeved shirts and awkwardly stood before TV cameras while they performed, smiling to probably mask the fact that they were performing for teenies.

"Was? You still are a kid. Angus was around your age when I met him." Now he's speaking to me like he's my father? (God rest his soul)

"Am not."

"You're adorable," he smiled. "You still alright with seeing the movie? I wouldn't want to scare you."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please. A horror movie isn't going to frighten me."

"I'm just glad that they're finally playing something good. They've been showing Grease for the last few days." He scrunched up his nose as he spat out the film's title.

"And what's wrong with Grease?"

He paused, realising who he was sitting next to.

"It's just not my thing. Too much..." He couldn't bear to even mention disco music. "It's too nice of a night to get upset over that kind of music."

"I agree." I sighed, holding my fire.

The drive-in was far from the lights of the city, making for a starry scape to gaze at while you waited for the film to start. Rolling hills lined the horizon and allowed for those who lived nearby to sneak in for free or watch from the hilltops. Bon drove in and waited as a security guard checked the car for any stowaways. I took the time to recap the rest of the night to Bon, who waited excitedly.

"A university gig? Very posh. You think you're too good to play high schools like us?"

Before I could ramble through some quickly strung-together response, Bon continued.

"Nah, good on you. It's no fun getting shoved into some tiny, sweaty locker room and having teens stare at you through one of those little windows like animals at the zoo. I'll have to join you for this show, see what I missed from dropping out of school."