better friends - eddie roundtree x oc

Los Angeles, 1971

The first thing we did the morning following our arrival was go see Rod. When we first got to the address, I couldn't decide if it was his house or a hotel. It was this huge coral spectacle, most of the walls made of glass, allowing complete transparency for any passersby to admire, or take advantage of. And don't even get me started on the actual interior. However, after little deliberation, I ultimately decided that I didn't actually care who the building belonged to. I was here to get some pointers, not become his realtor.

"Rod, hey." Billy said as Rod opened the door, clad only in his underwear, sunglasses, and an open robe. And, of course, a half smoked cigarette hanging from his lips. When he looked at us, well, let's just say he was less than expecting our visit. "Uh, it's, uh, Billy Dunne and the, uh, The Dunne Brothers." he stammered. I could tell Rod didn't remember him, or us. Or at least, not specifically. It's understandable, though. When you travel as much as he does, and do the amount of drugs he does in the process, your memory can tend to become a bit fuzzy. "We met at The Staircase in Pittsburgh, you know? You said I could call." It amazed me that Billy was smiling, acting as though what he believed to be passion and determination wasn't coming off as anything short of insane. I rubbed my temples, knowing that eventually, Rod was going to hit Billy with a dose of reality. Not yet, but it was coming.

"But you didn't call. You're just... here." He peeled his cigarette from his lips as Eddie subconsciously mirrored him. "Um, could we have ten minutes of your time?" Billy begged. Rod widened his eyes as he rolled them, pushing the door to be slightly more ajar as he stepped away, our group following him like a herd of sheep.

He led us to the pool in the back. It was at this point that I finally decided this was a hotel. I probably would've confirmed such a fact sooner if I had paid attention to any signs indicating so in the front, but oh well. Rod sat on a sun lounger, slumped forward and manspreading, Billy and Camila sat on the one adjacent to him, while Graham sat behind him. The rest of us stayed standing. "Obviously, we, uh, we need gigs." Billy nodded. "Yeah, on the Strip, if possible." Eddie chimed in. Warren thought this needed clarification, so he gave Rod some examples. "The Whiskey, the Troubadour." Camila snaked her arms around Billy's left bicep. "Yeah, and a place to stay." Rod had now pulled his sunglasses down from his hair to cover his eyes as he lit another cigarette. He was staring at us, wide-eyed in amazement. I was doing the same, not quite believing how much they were asking of a tour manager. This was not his fucking job.

"Yeah, I mean, we pooled our savings together, but it's not much." Billy finished, sighing. "We're probably gonna need some money." Warren laughed, stomping out his cigarette and grabbing a new one from Rod's pack. "I mean, just to get us off the ground, you know?" Graham added. Billy butted back in, remembering the thing he wanted most. "And, uh, Teddy Price to produce us. It's really important." Camila cracked a huge grin. "That would be huge." Rod started chuckling lightly as I covered my face, embarrassed to be surrounded by such ignorance. "Sure. Yeah, man. Anything else?" Rod straightened up. The rest of the band murmured things such as, "Nope, that's pretty much it." I scoffed and threw my hands in the air, dramatically. "Dear god, if I knew you guys were gonna be such idiots I would've stayed in the van to save myself the embarrassment. I mean, do you really think that's how this works? We show up in town and someone hands us a key to the city?" Rod and I shared a look, both our eyes asking, "What the hell's the matter with them?"

They all wore confused expressions as I slouched down next to Rod, bumming a cigarette from his pack extended toward me, as if it was a reward for being realistic. "Is your bassist the only one with common sense?" he asked, staring up at the band while his right hand reached over to flick on his lighter for my use. It was nice to know that he remembered me, or, at the very least, my instrument. They all kind of nodded, as if they were only doing so for the sake of agreeing with him. "Well, then make sure you keep her, 'cause she's right. I mean, a sit-down with Teddy Price?" Billy contorted his face, confused. "You said, you know, when we were back in Pittsburgh you said-" I cut him off. "He said he was a tour manager, not a band manager. We planning a world tour in the near future, or something, Billy?" He looked at me dumbfounded while Rod smirked. "Yeah. I don't think I'm your guy, man." Billy tried to defend himself and the others. "We're not asking for handouts." I squinted at him. "You guys literally just asked for, like, five handouts." Billy glared at me and ignored my statement. "We'll work our asses off, man." Rod turned to me for confirmation and I nodded. He sighed and looked back at Billy.