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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"These notes... they're very... detailed." Daniel Ben, Goldie's editor at Rolling Stone, flips through her stack of papers. The expression in his eyes is unimpressed. "But I only see dialogue with Harry. I'm not saying that I hate this angle necessarily but where's the rest of the band?"
"Well, I have some drafts that are probably more in your wheelhouse. Sorry. I have so many ideas and -" Goldie moistens the tips of her fingers with her tongue to flip through the papers. A sheen of saliva sits on her bottom lip. She takes the top half of her pen and sits it between her teeth and makes indentations in the thin plastic. How she wants the cylinder to be an unlit cigarette. A blast to her past of innocence, sitting in her bedroom with her typewriter in front of her in the beach sunlight.
Confident yet insecure, she plays with the collar of her dark green, corduroy blazer. Daniel eyes her up and down. She's an enticing young woman. The inexplicable notes behind the story she's gathered suddenly makes sense.
"Wait." Daniel flicks through several papers. The tip of his pencil lines the bottom of various sentences. He makes superficial changes to her words. "How old are you?" He squints his eyes in her direction in condescension.
"I'm 19." Goldie diverts her eyes' attention around the lined paper in her lap and clutches at the corners of the leather bound notebook. Memories of her time with the legends feed her ego. This is her time to shine. "Did you read this?" She turns the parchment towards Daniel. "Bowie. Freddie Mercury. I think I have some tidbits here that would be of interest to your readers."
"Perhaps," Daniel says, smiling to himself. The young female is challenging him. By the tremble in her hands he can tell this is an experience she's unfamiliar with. "I heard there was a fight between The Rolling Stones and The Orphans. Is that true?"
"YES!" Goldie aggressively flips through her notebook to find the perfect excerpt. "Here," she says, pointing to a sentence on the page. Her heart beats with excitement. Finally a point Dan shows interest in and her opportunity to defend her friends' honor. "The boys, I mean The Orphans... they were standing up for themselves. It was incredible. Even the dogs jumped in! The comradery among them is something to be envious of. The kind of stuff that great novels are based on. Who punches Mick Jagger?" She points to the door, the other side of which the band strikes poses and laugh. "They do. The punch was nothing short of heroic if you ask me."
"But was Harry standing up for the band or was he standing up for you?" Daniel looks at her deeply. The tip of his ballpoint pen sits uncomfortably close the white notebook, barely touching. Blue lines frame her potential words. Dots of ink pinch the muted paper. Her thoughts bleed across the barriers of her soul. The faint blue lines rattle as they try to entrap her in a specific narrative.
She breaks through. The message she wants to deliver to the atmosphere leaks through the pastel cerulean like a slightly-cut vein.
Daniel's message is clear. He wants to reach deep down into her throat and bring out any ounce of artist he thinks would benefit the article, even if that means framing the story a way different than it exists in her head. Rolling Stone doesn't want an article written by a fan where the subjects are portrayed as white knights with their Fender steeds and denim armory.
