Streets of LA

𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘

Noah had no one in his family who enjoyed rock music as much as him. They let him listen to it under the singular rule that he would keep it to a low volume. His parents are strictly business but he knows it's just because they were party animals when they were younger and don't want him to end up like them. So, just when he was on thin ice he befriended the teenage boy who worked the local music shop and got him to teach him bass for free.

James always knew he could sing. But he was always anxious that if he showed it off nobody else would hear it the way he does. His mother always assured him that his voice was one of angels, and James could always trust his mother. She pushed him to create SHOCK Treatment since she saw the true talent that the four of them had together.

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All together they shared the same dream of truly shocking and rocking the world at the same time.

How will they handle all of the fame at such sudden notice?

And that question brings us to the day that changed their lives forever.

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Saturday September 3rd, 1984.
Los Angeles, California.
THE HILL RESIDENCE, 4:34 PM
POV: James Hill

I'm sitting on my bed with a magazine in hand, blaring Iron Maiden's newest release. 'Powerslave' and I must admit it's not half bad. 

"JAMES!" I hear my mother, Cheryl Hill, shout up to me. I automatically assume she's yelling at me to turn the music down so I bring the volume down a notch. "I KNOW! I'M TURNING IT DOWN, MOM!" I shout back.

"NO, JAMES COME HERE! SOMEONE'S CALLING FOR YOU!" What? I wasn't expecting any calls this afternoon and I just got back from hanging out with the gang about an hour ago so I doubt it's any of them.

I head downstairs and see my mom holding the landline in one hand and a spoon in the other, must be cooking dinner. I take the phone out of her hand and speak confusedly into the receiver, "Hello?"

I'm met with the firm voice of what sounds like a younger man saying, "Good evening, is this Jason Hill?" My hands shake a little, I can't lie I'm kind of scared that my antics are catching up to me.

"Um- yeah this is him. Who's this?" I try my best to steady my voice in my response.

"This is David Cassidy with Elektra Records. I had a colleague, Tom, attend one of your gigs and he was genuinely impressed with SHOCK Treatment's work. He gave me a cassette of 'Purgatory' and I have to say I can't blame him. I was calling to set up a meeting with you and the other members as well as a trusted guardian as I've been told you're all underage. How does this Sunday sound? About 6:30? If that doesn't correspond well with you guys I'm sure we could work something out."

As I'm hit with all this new information my jaw is practically on the floor. The only thing I can utter is a meek "Holy shit." and I'm snapped out of my trance at the sound of my mother yelling at me to watch my language.

"Mr.Hill? Mr.Hill, are you there?"

"Yes! I'm here, sorry this is a huge surprise. Um- yeah Sunday works, the 9th right?"
As I say that, I grab the red pen hanging off the calendar on the wall next to me and circle the date in thick red ink.

"Yes sir, I'll be seeing you soon then. It's been a pleasure." He says in a polite tone.

"Yes, thank you so much!" I say with a little more energy than intended, line goes dead.