That Thing You Do! (Multiband Fan Fic)

Chapter 4 - What's-a-Goin' On

Dylan Chaser's P.O.V - Iowa . Four Days Later . 10:37 PM

I kicked a stone, walking home from band practice. My own band just kicked me out and I was pissed. With my guitar on my back, I took the long way home, to my apartment. I stopped paying rent, so it was a matter of time before I was kicked out, but I wasn't worried. I have my van to sleep in.

I turned onto my street, seeing an old minivan, probably from the early 80s/late 70s, pulled up, with smoke coming from the bonnet.
There was a girl, looking at me, with someone looking at the bonnet, but I just wanted to go home. I crossed the street, so I didn't have to interact, when I heard the sound of Aerosmith's 1973 album, playing from the van.
I stopped and turned around, looking at the girl and her friend. I sighed and walked over, knowing a thing or two, about old vehicles.

"Hey. Can I help you guys?" I asked, placing my guitar up against the wall the girl was stood by, turning to the van.
"Uh, maybe? The van jus' started smokin', so I pulled over." This dude looked at me. He looked like Nikki Sixx did, back in the '80s. He seemed like a stoner...
"Let me see. I'm a mechanic." I told them. Not a lie. Mechanic by day, guitarist by night.
The guy looked at the girl and they shrugged.

I shrugged to myself and took a look at their van.
"You guys are fucked." I said, taking one look. "This van isn't going anywhere, unless you have a shit-ton to spare." I motioned money, with my right hand, looking at them.
"Shit, dude!" The girl groaned, tipping her head back, looking to the sky for a miracle.
"Sorry, man." I looked at the guy. "You have good taste, though... There's a motel down the way, about three blocks. Your van isn't going anywhere, so let it get towed is all I can suggest, unless you have someone who can come get you guys?" I looked at their options. 
"Nah, we're stuck..." The guy pulled a blunt out his jacket pocket and held it in his mouth, not lighting it.
"Right... Well. Stay safe, OK..." I grabbed my guitar, as the girl opened the side door of the van. I caught a glimpse of a drumkit and changed my mind on these two.

"You guys play?" I asked, looking at the girl.
"Drumkit is his. I'm a guitarist!" She told me, sat in the van, her feet on the street, grabbing a duffle bag.
"I play too. Guitar. And sing. A bit." I told her. "You guys can stay the night at mine. I live just there!" I pointed at my apartment across the street. "I'll have someone come tow your van if you want. You can get some money for it. Not a lot, but enough to maybe get you guys home." I told them.
They looked at each other and seemed to have a silent conversation.

They had to be related somehow... They had the same face... Sorta. They looked alike, but not in an instantly obvious way. She seemed more real, than he did, but they seemed like a tight pair. Ride or die, or something like that.

"Sure, man. Thanks. I'm Stevie King." The guy turned to me.
"Dylan." I nodded at him, turning to the girl.
"I'm Katie Monroe." She smiled, grabbing her guitar.
"Monroe?" I asked. That was an interesting name. Not common...
"Yeah." She nodded, looking at me.
"I like it... I'm gonna call you that." I told her, not having any arguments.
"Uh, OK..." She looked at her friend and they started laughing, shrugging at each other.
"Right. Grab your shit, no smoking inside, wipe your feet, don't touch my gear, alright?!" I asked them, grabbing parts of the drumkit. There was no way they could leave it here and not have it get stolen.

"Soun's good. Thanks for this." Stevie grinned, grabbing his bass drum, as Katie grabbed some bags.
It took four trips, but we got everything, and I mean everything, out.
Turns out they were cousins, from her dads side of the family.

"Hang on..." I thought of something, as I closed the front door. "You said your name was 'King'?" I turned to Stevie.
"Y'ah. Stevie King!" He nodded, settling his duffle bag on a sofa.
"Stephen King? Like the author?" I asked him in disbelief.
"Yeah... buh with a 'V', not 'PH'..." He nodded, grabbing his drumsticks. He held them in a cross and started to scratch the back of his head with one. "My mum's a fan of hi' stuff, an' when she met my dad, she were crazy for 'im, so they got married, and mum found out she were havin' me, so she named me aft'r 'im... an' yeah..." He explained.
"Are you high?" I asked him straight forward. He hadn't lit the blunt, but he had to be on something.
"Nah yet!"  He chuckled, shrugging and dropping onto the sofa.
"He's fine. I promise. No trouble!" Monroe started to speak, sat on the armchair, with her guitar in its case.
"What does he take?" I asked her.
"Marijuana. He doesn't smoke when he knows he's gonna drive, but he hasn't had one in some time and he's kinda dependent on it, but not in a dangerous way!" What she just said clearly meant she knew nothing about drugs.
I smiled and nodded at her. "You don't know shit, do you?" I asked.
She laughed, unsurely, acting as if I hadn't hit the nail in the head.
"I'll get you some pillows, use your duvets. I'm up at 10:00 AM, if anything goes out of place, I'm going to kill you. I promise." I fake smiled at them and walked into my room.

. . .

I woke up in the night, needing a drink. I got up opened my bedroom door, hearing an unplugged guitar being played. Nothing I knew.
"I'm thinking like hard rock... It's the good stuff. You can't go wrong." Monroe spoke quietly.
I crept to the living area and stood with my back against the wall.
"Hard rock is good, like Guns N' Roses, Aerosmith, even some of Queen's stuff from the late '80s!" Stevie whispered back.
"Yeah! Do you think this guy would want in? He sounds like he knows what's up." Monroe asked, talking about me.
"Dunno... He seems...." There was movement. "I dunno... Like a dick." I heard Stevie say, with the sound of the window being opened.
"What are you doing, man?!" I heard Monroe snickering.
"Smokin'!" Stevie replied, sounding by the window.

So, they're looking to start a band...
Let's see what's-a-goin' on...