"For some people, they were just ... always there.
And that was Rory."
Aurora "Rory" Marquez was a teenager with stars in her eyes and a book full of songs in her pocket when Graham Dunne approached her in 1968. He wanted to start a rock band and n...
┏━━━━ •❃°•°❀°•°❃• ━━━━┓ chapter twenty "Close my eyes, she's somehow closer now Softly smile, I know she must be kind When I look in her eyes She goes with me to a blossom world." ┗━━━━ •❃°•°❀°•°❃• ━━━━┛
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
NOW PLAYING: "GOOD VIBRATIONS" by THE BEACH BOYS (1966)
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
___________
RORY: Daisy and Billy were in exile until they got their shit together, which left the rest of us to fend for ourselves. Nobody wanted to say it, but we were all nervous about how things would go between them. Everything hinged on it. If they went down in flames, so did any possibility of Daisy joining the band, and that left the others in a rough spot. How could they pretend that morning never happened, like they didn't air out their dirty laundry to Billy?
But it wound up being a good day.
[Smiles] Yeah. A really good day.
∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴
IT'S ONLY NINE-THIRTY in the morning, and Rory itches to do something. The band has gathered back at the house. When she arrives after her short meeting with Walter, they seem to be enjoying their day off by relaxing. Warren and Eddie share a joint on the back patio while Graham waxes his beloved surfboard. Karen leans against the house, her arms crossed as she watches the boys.
Rory's songbook is open in her lap, but she only stares at it for five minutes, struggling to conjure writing inspiration. "Heartstopper"'s duet version had been her last high point. Since finishing it, she's been stuck in a rut. Not even experimenting with different writing exercises has helped. She has pages full of vague ideas and potential lines, but none want to click together, intent on existing as fragments rather than daring to conflate into something useful.
She groans in frustration and grabs the sweating glass of lemonade on the table beside her. Even though it's November, it's still hot outside, and their house doesn't have air conditioning. They rely entirely on open windows and lucky breezes. As a result, the back door is open, and Rory can hear the conversation between Warren, Eddie, and Graham drifting through the screen.
