It's Up To You

Prologue

Los Angeles, 1956

Record stores was an escape for teenagers in that time. We all would get off from school and head to our local store to listen in on the latest tracks. If you were lucky, your parents gave you enough cash to buy yourself a record.

Listening booths lined each record shop, every booth was treated like a chapel. The only difference was that instead of opening our hearts to a higher power, we were opening our ears to Rock & Roll.

That was the worst thing you could've ever listened to. Christians called it an abomination, racists used it as an excuse to accuse others of their unruly children's actions and for the rest of us, it was life changing.

There I stood in the small booth with my best friend, Martha Mcdougal. We stood there awkwardly, only 16 years of age, anxiously holding the record in our hand.

"You know Elvis is a horror!" She whispered to me with widened eyes. "I mean— you saw him on Ed Sullivan. All of that hip movements..."

"It was great." I smiled widely, pressing the record sleeve against my chest. "I'd never seen anything like it before."

"It was provocative!" Martha whispered to me nervously. "My father took the television and locked it in a closet after he saw that boy go!"

"Why'd he do that?" I asked Martha with furrowed eyebrows. She adjusted her thin, circular gold wire glasses up onto her freckled nose.

"Well, he acted as if I was to know he was going to go up there and act like..." Martha began then looked around. She made sure the door to the booth was shut, then leaned near to my ear. "Playboy!"

"Well you're dad isn't here, so we can listen to the record." I shrugged at her. It felt divine slowly sliding the record out of its paper sleeve. Then, I slowly placed it on the turntable in the booth. Lifting the needle, I looked to Janis whose face was already pink.

"You didn't even hear the lyrics yet." I rose a brow at her and she crossed her arms.

"I know what he's going to say." She nodded her head then lifted it high with pierced lips. I rolled my eyes and gently let the needle fall onto the record. The sound of a piano filled the room as I slowly began to sway to the music.

My baby's long and tall,
She's like a cannonball
Say, everytime she loves me,
Lordly, you can hear me squall
She cried, Ooo-wee—

Martha lifted the needle from the record. I stopped it and scowled at her.

"Martha! If you don't want to hear it, then just leave!" I shouted at her. She looked around and saw people in the store not paying any mind to us.

Then, the looked down at the record and slowly started it up again.

I believe I'll change my mind
She said, "I'm so glad I'm living"
I cried, "I'm so glad you're mine"

My adoptive parents preferred me not to listen to such a thing, it was filled with sex and temptation. They'd much rather me listen to other genres.

"You know, your brother, Ricky doesn't make filth like that." Martha wiggled her finger at me.

"Ricky's music is boring. And besides, he's not my brother, he's my adoptive-brother. He might as well be a stranger I happen to live with." I reminded her as I swayed to the music.

"It was nice of the Nelsons to take you in after losing your parents. Especially since you're negro." Martha smiled at me.

My baby knows just how
To treat me right
Gives me plenty loving
Morning, noon, and night

"The Nelsons are kind people, they don't care about things like that." I told Martha, who was colored just like me.

"Martha, how do you not listen to Rock and Roll? It was us who made it." I chuckled at her while I swayed my hips.

Martha looked down at her feet. "I come from a Christian family. We don't indulge in things like this."

She cried, Ooo-wee
I believe I'll change my mind
She said, "I'm so glad I'm living"
I cried, "I'm so glad you're mine"

"Alright, you've heard enough— let's go!" Martha laughed as my dancing got more sexual. I giggled and cut off the record. With the opening of the door, we both stumbled out, our petticoat skirts pushing against each other in the doorway.

"Are you two going to buy that record today?" Mr. Danrose, the store owner asked of us. He stood behind the counter with his palms on the surface. His hair forearms were on display since he wore short sleeves in the LA heat.

"No, we've decided we weren't going to take that record today, sir." I clasped my hands together tightly. I knew that Mr. and Mrs. Nelson wouldn't want to hear that I was listening to Elvis.

"You can't keep coming in here to listen to music for free. Eventually you're gonna have to buy something!" Mr. Danrose complained. He knew I could afford the record, after all, he knew who my adoptive parents were. Ricky had local events there in the past for exposure.

He squinted at the record I held in my hand. "What were you listening to anyway?"

"Oh, nothing thanks for the booth Mr. Danrose, see ya next time!" I quickly spat out, almost heading toward the door. Feeling bad, I walked over to Mr. Danrose and placed the record on the counter. "Alright. I'll take it."

Mr. Danrose looked down at the record. Once he saw who we were listening to, I heard him mutter under his breath. Still, he took the money I handed to him and sold the record. I held the record tightly in the paper bag given to me to hold it. If Mr. and Mrs. Nelson ever found it, they'd flip!

"I told you listening to him would be a bad idea!" Martha shouted at me. I rolled my eyes, but suddenly I was stopped in my tracks when I noticed a large car parked outside. My heart sunk as I stood there.

"Dad." I said quietly. Out of the parked car revealed Ozzie Nelson, the father of our unconventional family. He walked around the car and stood in front of me.

"What are you doing here? You said you'd come right home after school." He reprimanded. "Get in the car right now, young lady."