𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙎𝙀𝙏 𝘽𝙊𝙐𝙇𝙀𝙑𝘼𝙍𝘿 // 𝙍𝙊𝙎𝙀́ 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙬𝙤 - 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙄𝙡𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙔/𝙉 𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧

Los Angeles, 1961

The blistering heat of the sun is burning my skin. When Lisa had suggested we take our little band out of New York City and into sunny Los Angeles, I didn't exactly take into account the word 'sunny' until it was too late. I left New York City three months ago and now I was working three jobs just to keep a shitty apartment off of Hollywood Boulevard.

Jennie Kim, Lisa Manoban and I had a dream to make it big in Hollywood. I mean, who didn't? But unlike others, we were going to make it big and our names will be so high up in the sky that no one can reach us. So, even if Hollywood Boulevard was no place for three low class children of asian immigrants, we searched high and low to get even a cardboard box near Hollywood Boulevard. I needed to be close to the stars, I needed to be close to the life I've always dreamed of.

If getting there meant having to work at a diner, a five and dime and a cleaner then I would get on my hands and knees scrubbing, waiting tables and giving folks cigarettes. Anything, just anything to keep that shitty apartment off of Hollywood Boulevard. Anything to be closer to the stars and their shiny lives.

I wanted it, I wanted it so fucking bad that I agreed to stand for hours in the sun advertising TOFF's, the diner that I work at.

"C'mon, Rosie! Put on a pretty smile for me at least," I hated it when people I barely knew called me Rosie. Rosie was reserved for the closest people to me, Rosie was the name my dad had called me before he turned into a drunk that liked hitting his wife. There's a part a of me that resents that name but the name brings good memories and holding onto those good memories hurt me, which in some twisted way pushes me to keep it. I keep the name Rosie because it reminds me of the best and worst parts of me and my life. Maybe I also like the pain that's associated with the name.

"I'm trying Diane, but I don't think people want to come in."

Diane is my boss. She's a white woman with ginger hair, a busty chest and a fat ass. She also enjoys eating cheeseburgers and smoking the crap out of her cigarettes. She always smells of vanilla and smoke. It's a weird combination. "Maybe go up to them instead of just staying under the shade." No fucking shit but I wasn't going to risk getting my pale skin fried by the sun in this goddamn city. My dad is a tan Korean man and he has always hated his skin colour. Maybe that's why he hates me, because I took after my mom and inherited her pale skin. "Eh, they can see the sign from here," I made sure to write in big bold block letters on purpose.

"Hey, Diane!" She stops just short of the door, a cigarette in her hand and the red on her lips stain the filter. "What?" She sounds disinterested, like she always is unless it's about money or men. "You promised Lisa, Jen and I that we can perform tonight."

She rolls her eyes, she tried dying her hair like Marilyn Monroe and even styled it like her, but there was nothing Marilyn Monroe about her. I keep my hatred for her inside. One day I'll be able to admit that I hate Diane Rogers but that day was not today. "My diner isn't for performances, girl. If you want to perform, go do that at Hullabaloo Club."

It was my turn to roll my eyes, she and I both knew it would be impossible to play at the Hullabaloo Club right now. Lisa, Jen and I were good, damn good too but we weren't at that level where the people at Hullabaloo would want us to keep coming back to perform. "You know that's not going to happen right now," as much as I have confidence in my tiny band, I knew we still have a lot of rubbing people's feet to get somewhere. If we could just do a performance at Diane's diner and the hungry folks of Hollywood Boulevard would hear us then maybe word would get around and it'd make it to the Hullabaloo Club.

Hullabaloo was the place you wanted to be if you were a new band. If you wanted to get a chance of stardom. They had this thing past one o'clock in the morning where they let new bands up on stage to play their songs to the audience. If the audience loved you, the owners would let you perform there weekly, even nightly. Hullabaloo Club was Lisa, Jennie and I's stepping stone into stardom. We had to get there.