the cadence of part time poets

Chapter 103: Spectre Records

Are teenage dreams so hard to beat?
Every time she walks down the street;
Another girl in the neighbourhood,
Wish she was mine, she looks so good;
I wanna hold her, wanna hold her tight—
Get teenage kicks right through the night!

- "Teenage Kicks" The Undertones, 1978

End of March 1979

In a timeframe that would've made any sane bride dizzy, and with the fervent help of Mrs. Pettigrew and a slew of other hired hands, Lottie had gotten the grand wedding she'd wanted. They'd picked a Wednesday—the first Wednesday of April—and though it felt like an odd day for a wedding, all of the Pettigrews' closest friends and family would be in attendance. Remus was informed later that it was the only day they could book the venue on such short notice. Naturally, he felt that the entire thing felt more than a bit rushed, but since only Peter seemed to share the sentiment, he kept the thought to himself.

The girls were very busy those days; Lily appeared to have run herself entirely ragged between all the dress fittings, hen parties, studying, and classes. Sirius of course teased her over it, loudly anticipating the day it'd be her walking down the aisle in a lovely white gown of her own, but Lily was abstinent. She was far too busy to even consider such things. If she and James did get married, it would not be for a long, long time.

And so, as his friends went about settling back into their usual routines, Remus steeled himself to do the same, only now the Marauders had their eyes on a bigger prize.

It'd started with their triumphant return to the stage. Ray had called—the Shoestring needed its favourite act back, and they were hardly in a position to deny him. Coupling as a slightly-belated birthday celebration for James, the five of them plus Regulus all piled back into the Minnie van with their instruments and made the short trip across the city. Despite the excitement, the atmosphere inside the old Volkswagen had turned anxious before they'd even made it to the opposite bank of the Thames. After all, it'd taken less time for bigger bands to be forgotten by those who'd once cheered their name, and they were still newcomers on the scene.

"They probably won't even care," Peter anguished, making Remus recall their earliest days at the Shoe, where they'd played to audiences of as little as four people merely there to drown themselves in their pints. But then, if there was anything a small, local pub was known for, it was the loyalty of its patrons.

Upon their arrival, Ray met them at the back doors and they were welcomed back by the kitchen crew with open arms. Ray offered them drinks to celebrate—just the cheap stuff—and when they emerged into the rest of the bar with their gear, plenty of people craned their heads to get a look. Some friendly faces tapped their pint glasses approvingly, others cheered—finally a good show!

Just like that, Remus knew they were home.

"This is really where you play?" Regulus asked warily, peering around the spit-n-sawdust pub as though a disease might leap off of the nearest bar stool and bite him.

"Expecting a concert hall, were you?" Sirius leered, stopping to dramatically breathe in the smell of cigarette smoke and spilt hops. Regulus didn't reply; it was clear by his scrutinising expression that the Shoestring was not what he'd been expecting. After nearly a week in London, he'd given up on the stiff black slacks he'd brought from home and had instead taken to borrowing whatever pieces from Sirius' wardrobe that offended his eyes the least. Now, with a pair of plain jeans and his usually neat hair hung loose around his face and ears, he was starting to look like any other seventeen year-old kid.

They found their usual table near the stage empty and waiting for them, with their name and the word 'reserved' written clumsily across a paper napkin. One of the r's was backwards, turning it into 'RESEЯVED'. When Sirius saw it, he scooped up the napkin and offered it to Remus.