Taking place in the summer of 1978, the story follows 18-year-old aspiring music journalist, nicknamed Goldie, tasked with following up-and-coming UK rock band - The Orphans - while they do their first tour of the U.S. New to life on the road, Goldi...
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Silence on the tour bus is odd. A rarity. Goldie has no idea of how long she's been out. A few hours? Days? Her seconds on the bus started to run together and the silence made the time sprint ahead of her like a flash of memories she had yet to actually experience.
Her fingers roam the empty spot in the bed beside her. Harry is gone but the bus is still moving. The sun and thin, unwashed sheets are the only things providing her warmth. No heat from his bare chest. No comfort from his arms. She sits up, covering her upper body, and looks around for him and clothes. She finds an old black tee and Harry's red shorts on the ground and slips them on. The soles of her feet press on the ground and she steps outside the room.
"Hi, Piggy. Good morning, Blob." She pats the tops of the dogs' sleeping heads.
Silence is all that can be heard. The white noise of the rolling tires against the paved road. Her eyes scan the lake of bodies, swimming in slumber and dim light. Matt. Mitch. Grimmy. Niall. Jonesy with the empty bag of brownies on his chest and legs dangling over the side of his bunk. She steps over his stems and sees familiar rings drumming against the steering wheel and hears a sweet, quiet hum, the melody of which she doesn't recognize. She smiles, now up at the front beside Harry. He's unaware she's standing there. Just blissfully lost in the sunrise and music.
"As quiet as The Kiss. Awaiting the proper season. Awaiting sense of contentment." Harry sings.
"I didn't recognize the tune but I recognize those lyrics." Goldie looks down at him with a grin.
Harry, shirtless and sunburnt, is startled by her quiet voice. "Don't you know you're never supposed to sneak up on the driver." He grabs her hand and pulls her down to sit on his lap. She lets out a squeak and cuddles into his lap like a small child. "What are you doing awake? You should be asleep in our bunk still."
Goldie contemplates asking about his use of "our bunk" but decides it's unnecessary to call attention to it. It makes perfect sense. It had become theirs. "You were gone when I woke up."
"Yeah, your snore is ungodly," he jokes and pretends to be hurt by the slap she lays on his chest. "I've never been one to sleep in and I have a lot on my mind. That never helps the insomniac in me."
"What were you thinking about?"
"Things. Figured taking my shift to drive would help take my mind off all of it."
She wants to pry. She wants to ask what he's thinking about. Saw him open and read his thoughts herself. But she doesn't. As much of a whirlwind their relationship was, it was always baby steps with Harry. Though she could stand above him and hold his hands to help him keep his balance, it was he who had to make the decision to put his foot forward and open up.
"How much longer till Baltimore?" Goldie closes her eyes and presses her ear against his chest, feeling the rumbling as he responds.
"About 30 minutes. Then Philadelphia. Then New York." Harry's voice is solemn and raspy. He had spent so many years of his life chasing fame and notoriety for The Orphans' music and always thought that was the end game for him. That all changed when he met her. "Go back to bed."
