That Thing You Do! (Multiband Fan Fic)

Chapter 2 - The King

Katie's P.O.V

Kirk walked home with me and we talked all about it. I was going to go for a week and I'd call him, when I could. Vikki was the same. Kirk didn't have many friends, so I understood where he was coming from, but this was my dream and he knew that, so he was letting me go. 

He was reluctant, but he was letting me go.

. . .

I stepped off the train, with my bag, guitar and cassettes, and headed outside. It was warm, but a bit cloudy. I walked to a cab and gave him the address I had written down, before he helped with my bag, putting it, and my cassettes, in the boot. I wanted to keep my guitar with me.

West Chester seemed like a decent place, but I wouldn't be staying for long. I needed to see Stevie.

He drove, maybe thirty minutes, including some traffic, and we made it to a peaceful street. It was long, houses either side, with a few trees, and the odd cat lying around. It was lovely.
We stopped outside a house different from the rest. It was white, with black windows and door. Even the garage was painted black. An incredible mini bus was outside, on the drive, screaming to be used. It was old and dusty, but looked in good condition.

The upstairs windows were open, and the faint sound of T. Rex could be heard from inside.
I climbed out the cab, the driver grabbed my bag and cassette case, before I payed him and walked up the drive.
There was a ginger cat, sat on the wall to my left, watching me.
I smiled at it, being a cat lover, then knocked on the door.

There were red and purple pansies littering the flower bed, to my left, with a rose bush, marking the house from the street. It was gorgeous!
No one answered the door, so I knocked again. Knowing someone was in, as the windows were open and I could hear music.
A neighbour walked out the house, to my right, spying me. I gave a smile and they nodded at me. He didn't look pleased to see me, looking at my outfit.
White and black striped jeans, with odd coloured converse, one purple, one emerald green, with a black Guns N' Roses tank top, and my signature red bowler hat, with black and grey sleeves on my arms, my key necklace and my Russian bangles, three silver hoops intertwined, on my right arm.

The guy got in his car and drove away, and I was still standing on the doorstep. Their wasn't a bell, so I decided to try the door handle. It was open.
I pushed the door open and was welcomed by a small hallway. A door to the left, stairs to the right, with a door at the back, open, revealing a kitchen. The music was coming from upstairs.
I walked in, leaving my stuff in the hall, opening the door to my left.

It was the living room. I shut the front door and walked into the room, getting a look around. Two cream coloured sofas, a coffee table, large flat screen TV. There were pictures hanging around the room, so I walked up to the fire place, on the wall left to the window, looking at the pictures lined up.

There were pictures of a guy who looked like my dad, but younger... There was no way it was my dad, as they wore different clothes. I was shocked, but I knew I had the right house, as Vivian and Gabriel were in some pictures too.

"Hello?!" A voice shouted out, from the hallway. It sounded like Stevie.
"Hey!" I called back, turning to the door.
I swear my dad just walked in.
"Katie?! You made it!" Stevie smiled, standing in the doorway.
"Stevie?!" I asked, staring at him.
"Oh, yeah... Mum says I look like uncle Frank..." Stevie scratched the back of his head. He had long dyed black hair, with black make up on his eyes. He was tall, maybe 6ft, compared to me, at 5ft 2. He had a white smile, with his mums eyes, but somehow my dads looks. It was amazing!
"You look great... I can't believe it! How are you?!" I asked, going to give him a hug.
"I'm good, yah know!" He shrugged. He looked high, like he just smoked marijuana.

He hugged me back and led me to the kitchen, where he grabbed a chocolate milk from the fridge. "Want anything?" He offered.
"Uh, same as you. Thanks, mate! Are you high?" I asked him, looking round the kitchen. Counters all round, with a back door, opposite the door to the hallway. We just walked through the door from the living room.
"Yeah. I smoked some." He smiled, handing me a bottle. "Mum and dad are at work, so come on up... I thought I heard knocking, but I'm list'nin' to T. Rex... I didn' know." He sounded so out of it, but easy to understand. I loved it.
"Nice, man!" I smiled, as he led me upstairs, to a room facing the front.

His room was big. Not like mine, but I do live in a mansion. There was a double mattress on the floor, under the window, with a old black record player on a stool opposite it, with four boxes of records all lined up, next to it.

There was a chest of drawers, with clothes hanging out of it, with a coat hanger, behind the door, with jackets on it, and shoes under it. The walls were painted a light blue, but covered in posters of T. Rex, Elton John, Aerosmith, the Who, Sweet, The Rolling Stones, Electric Light Orchestra, Guns N Roses, Queen, Def Leppard, Metallica, Bon Jovi, and so many others.

"I love your rooooom!" I looked around, taking it all in.
"I' not much, bu' it's mah home." Stevie took a seat on the mattress, the black and white chess board duvet having been bunched up, where his feet lay.

He pat the spot next to him, for me to sit, so I did. Our backs against the pillows, against the wall.
"So, how 'r you been?" Stevie asked, as we settled.
"Alright... My birthday was sick! We saw Aerosmith on their last tour date!" I smiled.
"Yeah! I saw them, when they were here! Last month!" Stevie smiled. "Aerosmith are the best! Oh, and T. Rex!" He pointed to a poster of Marc Bolan, on the back of his door.
It was an old poster, being covered in sellotape, showing its wear and tare.

I nodded and admired his room. In the back there was a kiddie drum kit. One bass drum and two drums next to it, with only three cymbals, but he had a couple of guitars and a bass guitar, against his back wall.

"You interested in starting a band, mate?" I asked, casually. I wanted to get to know Stevie, but looking around the answer was already spoken.
"Yeah, dude! I want t' play drums, like Steven Adler! You could totally play guitar and shred like Joe does! and we could gather up sum dudes or peeps and play rock music!" Stevie smiled, referring to women as 'peeps'.

I just laughed and nodded. "Yeah. Hey, are we sharing the bed?" I asked, seeing no other bed.
"Uh, yeah, bu' you can crash in the spare room if yah wan'." Stevie grabbed a small tin box, from his bedside.
"I'm happy here." I smiled, watching as he rolled a blunt.
"You wan one?" He asked, glancing at me. "I think The Stones sound better, when out of this reality." He sounded smart. Well educated.
"I'm alright, mate, but this is T. Rex playing." I snickered, looking at him, as he just stared at me.
"Not for loooong!" He laughed, placing the blunt between his lips, and getting up to change the record.
I laughed watching him, as Brown Sugar came on. He started to sway, grabbing a lighter to light his blunt.