┏━━━━ •❃°•°❀°•°❃• ━━━━┓
chapter nine
" Good times,
bad times,
you know I've
had my share. "
┗━━━━ •❃°•°❀°•°❃• ━━━━┛
NOW PLAYING: "GOOD TIMES BAD TIMES" by LED ZEPPELIN (1969)
+ content warning: Racism
________
DEENAH DAY, biographer, Hidden Strings: The People Who Made 'Daisy Jones & The Six' Possible: The thing about Aurora's story is that she is with the band first and then has bits of her own adventure. She was with The Six at practically every waking moment while they were still getting their feet underneath them. But ironically, once they got their record deal, her branch of the story was just beginning.
∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴
RORY IS WORKING another closing shift at the store when she gets the news. Or, more like the news comes screaming and barreling into her.
She slides boxes of noodles onto a shelf, caught in a daze as she repeats the robotic movements, only to be interrupted by the sound of several pairs of shoes thundering all over the linoleum tile in the small store.
"WHERE IS SHE?" cries a familiar voice among the pounding footsteps.
Rory looks up just in time to see Warren appear at the end of the aisle. As soon as he sees her, he calls out, "Aisle 15!" and begins sprinting toward her, exclaiming, "We're making an album!"
"What?" Rory asks. Her jaw drops open in excitement, about to ask for more details, but he prevents her from doing so by enveloping her in a hug that sweeps her off her feet. He spins her around, her laughter filling the aisle while she clutches onto him. "Oh my God! When? How?"
"Next week!" Warren replies, setting her back down after several twirls. "Teddy said the studio's ready."
Karen, Graham, and Eddie turn down the aisle as well and almost crash into each other from their momentum. Then they're running toward her too, and they jump up and down together, throw their arms around each other, and don't care that people are giving them strange looks.
"Al — bum! Al — bum! Al — bum!" Rory and Graham chant with their hands clasped together, swinging their arms wildly about. "Al — bum! Al — bu—"
"Aurora, get back to work," her boss orders, having arrived to determine the cause of all the commotion. He eyes the group of teenagers warily.
"Sorry, sir," Rory says. Her heart thunders in her chest, beating a million times a minute as she struggles to catch her breath. Maybe she had done a little too much jumping and yelling for her lungs to handle.
As soon as her boss leaves, they all turn toward each other and share silent screams.
It's 1974. The Dunne Brothers had been formed six years ago, and they are just now getting into a studio for the first time.
The Six records their debut album, SevenEightNine, in six days. On day two, Billy approaches Rory and asks if they can include "Heartstopper" — the original version, exactly as she had written it, with full credit to her, meaning she will receive royalties each time the record is sold. She nods emphatically with tears in her eyes. Billy laughs when she throws her arms around him and hugs her back just as tightly.
Rory sits in the studio, watching the band record her song, feeling on top of the world. She mouths along to the lyrics as Billy sings them into the microphone in front of him. Graham nods along to the beat while he plays the guitar, a smile pulling up his lips every so often when his eyes flicker up to meet Rory's through the glass. Usually, she sits in the booth with the band — it's spacious enough for all of them to fit — but she hadn't wanted to distract them in case she got too emotional during the song.
"Billy told me you wrote this one," Teddy says from beside her.
Rory wipes the tear streaks from her cheeks and sniffles. "Oh, yeah. I did."
Teddy knows about her hobby; she never goes anywhere without her songbook, and he's seen her take it out at random times to scribble down ideas as they hit her. This is the first time that he's heard one of her songs played by a full band.
"It's a risk," he says. "Those hard rock elements will shake things up."
At first, she thinks he means that he isn't fond of the song and doesn't think it will sound right on the album. Rory's smile begins to fade.
"But..." Teddy looks at her from the corner of his eye, a smirk playing on his lips. "I think it's just the right kind of risk."
Rory could pass out right now. She exhales a slow breath to try and calm her racing heartbeat. "Thank you, Teddy. That... that means more to me than you will ever know."
The band finishes the song, then decides to take a quick break. Rory gives them an enthusiastic thumbs-up through the window. It's a minimal display of her true emotions; she feels like she could start screaming. Now that the song is recorded, she'll be able to listen to it over and over forever, knowing that she wrote it and it will be out in the world.
Teddy removes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and begins to fiddle with one. He doesn't make a move to light it — he'd been debriefed about her health condition — but it's clear that he's going to need a smoke break outside soon.
"You know... a colleague of mine here at the studio is in a bit of a pinch. One of his client's songwriters just fell and broke his back. They have a few more songs left to finish and the deadline's coming soon, but with him in the hospital, they'll have to postpone the album's release."
Rory sucks in a breath and holds it, hanging on his every word.
"Would you be interested in seeing if you could help them out?"
She wants to explode out of her seat and throw herself at Teddy to hug him, but forces herself to remain in her chair, even if she has to curl her fingers around the armrests until her bones strain against the skin of her knuckles to do so. "I — Santa María — yes, I would love to." Rory keeps her voice level even though she wants to cheer. "Who is the client?"
"Sticks 'n' Stones."
"STICKS 'N' STONES?"
Rory jumps when Eddie practically bursts in from the sound booth, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. "You're going to be writing for Sticks 'n' Stones?"
"If she wants to," Teddy says placidly. But the smile on his face betrays his casual words— he knows she does.
"Of course I do," Rory says. "Are you kidding me?"
Sticks 'n' Stones is a rock duo that started gaining popularity in the late '60s. Their music is a bit more Led Zeppelin in sound, their vocals and instrumentals harsher than the type of stuff The Six gears toward, and definitely a change from what Rory is used to writing. But working with them would challenge her to expand her skills and ideas. She would be able to take more risks just like putting "Heartstopper" on the album.
"I'll get in contact with my colleague and give him your phone number," Teddy tells her. "He'll probably want to meet with you beforehand— you know, to set you up with a contract, get you prepared for getting your name out there professionally. You should expect a call from him in the next few days."
Rory grins so widely she feels like her cheeks could split. Her body practically shakes with the restraint it takes to not jump for joy. Teddy, seeming to notice this, raises an eyebrow in questioning.
"Can I hug you?" she blurts out.
He laughs. "You can hug me."
Rory flies out of her chair and flings her arms around Teddy, joy overtaking her entire body.
∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴
TIMOTHY MAZUR, rock critic: Sticks 'n' Stones was about to hit their peak in '74, and Teddy Price knew that. Their first album received some attention, but the second one was a smash hit that had everyone craving more, and the duo's fate literally hinged on their third one being even bigger, even better than the last.
Sending a novice songwriter to finish that album was — for lack of a better term — an incredibly ballsy move. Aurora Marquez had never written a song professionally, unless you count "Heartstopper", which was not penned in a professional setting, and had yet to be released. That's a task you would usually give to a seasoned songwriter. Someone you knew and trusted in the industry who could work well under that kind of pressure because they've done it a million times before.
Teddy Price didn't do things the comfortable way. He took risks. And when you look at the record sales for that third album, "The Black Veil", you can see that the risk paid off. It was the top-selling album in '74. It beat out Elton John, For Chrissake.
[At this point in the story, all five members of The Six take solemn moments to themselves.]
WARREN: [Smiles sadly] She was so excited.
[Karen stares into the camera, wringing her hands together.]
KAREN: The day she was going to meet Teddy's colleague and sign the contract, she said to me, "Things are finally looking up for us. We're gonna take over the world!" or something optimistic and enthusiastic like that. Something so Rory. Where you couldn't help but believe her.
GRAHAM: Yeah, she was thrilled.
INTERVIEWER: And how does that feel now, looking back on it?
[Graham averts his gaze, exhaling a slow breath, before looking back at the camera]
GRAHAM: Like a knife to the heart.
∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴
Rory walks into her contract meeting with trembling hands. It's held in a room of Sound City she hasn't been in before— one clearly meant for board meetings, with a long, wooden table and a chalkboard on the far wall. A middle-aged man with blond hair slowly fading into gray stands when she enters, smoothing his red jacket before extending a hand for her to shake.
"I'm Walter Disick," he says, his voice gravelly from years of smoking. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Bennett— Teddy has already told me so much."
"It is nice to meet you, too," Rory replies as she shakes his hand firmly. "And... um, actually, it's Marquez."
"Right. About that." Mr. Disick gestures to the seat across from him. Once she sits, he continues talking. "Once you sign your contract, you will enter the public eye as a professional songwriter for Ellenmare Records, produced mainly here at Sound City, but you could be working for artists from all over the country. And — well, let's face it: going by Aurora Bennett professionally is likely to garner more clients. It sounds less ethnic."
A fist clenches Rory's stomach. "But it's my name. And I am — ethnic, I mean."
"Yes." Mr. Disick's gaze flickers around her appearance. Rory becomes grateful that Camila had helped her pick out an outfit this morning and smoothed her thick, dark locks into a neat bun at the base of her neck. Her powder-blue dress with its white Peter Pan collar and small white heels make her appear professional, even if her height and weight still make her look like a child to many strangers.
The man is clearly uncomfortable, tugging at the collar of his green and blue striped button-up with a finger. He clears his throat and repeats himself with another, "Yes." And then, "It's just... well, you can't pass for white, but, it's just, if people didn't already know about your race based on your name alone, then more people would be interested in you."
Rory's blood rushes in her ears, heating her skin until it feels boiling hot and she is sure that her face has started to flush. She tightens her grip on the arms of her chair to ground herself. Her tongue has turned to sandpaper due to her mouth rapidly drying. She finds herself seconds away from conceding, signing over Abuelo's surname and becoming known professionally by her father's, someone who had never believed that she would make it in the career she is now starting.
But she stops herself. Asks, What would Camila do in this situation? Would she sign "Alvarez" away? Or if Warren was asked the same question, would he change "Rojas" to something more... American-sounding? No. No, they would not.
Rory and her Latin relatives have faced countless injustices since moving to this country. She will not tuck away her roots just to make white people feel more comfortable with her.
"Mr. Disick—"
"Please, call me Walter."
"Walter," she begins again, taking a deep inhale, "I'm sorry, but I will not be changing my name. If people are not fond of where I come from, then they do not deserve to benefit from my work."
Walter considers this for a long moment before nodding. The action seems to say, Your funeral.
"If that's what you want." He gathers the stapled papers in front of him and taps the bottom against the table even though they're already piled perfectly atop one another. It seems like he just wants something to do with his hands. "Have you had time to read through the contract?"
"Yes," Rory answers. Since she can't afford a lawyer, the company had allowed her an extra two days to read over the contract they were proposing. There were a lot of long, complicated words she didn't understand, so Karen and Graham had taken her to the library to find dictionaries on law terms. She'd poured over each line until her vision started to swirl and the text melted into the margins. "The rest of it is okay."
"So you understand you would be signing a two-year contract with us?" Walter asks.
"Yes."
"And that, if the company likes your performance as an employee enough, it may be up for renewal?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you agree to the beautification standards?"
That part had stumped Rory and outraged Karen when they'd come across the portion involving the rules she would have to follow pertaining to her appearance. As an employee of the label, she would represent it, meaning she was expected to appear well-groomed in public. One line had stated, "Women should not have prominent facial hair," and she'd self-consciously rubbed her finger over the fine hairs above her upper lip that were always darker than other girls'.
Rory isn't usually one to leave the house in her pajamas with her hair a mess anyways, so she hadn't made a fuss, even though Karen thought she should have.
"Yes, sir."
Rory signs the contract, her graceful signature marking her down as an official songwriter for Ellenmarre Records.
Walter again offers a hand for her to shake. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Aurora, and I'll see you again tomorrow for your first writing session with Sticks 'n' Stones. For now, my assistant Rose will take you to your waxing appointment."
A tall, pale woman with midnight-black hair had silently appeared in the doorway. Rory follows her out of the board room and into the sweltering heat of the afternoon. When the sunlight hits Rory's face, Rose turns to her with a frown as she examines her.
"Have you ever had your face waxed before?"
"Oh," Rory says, feeling stupid for saying so, but she hadn't been expecting the question. "Um, no, ma'am."
"I didn't think so." The woman's ice-blue eyes stare at the extra strands of hair between Rory's thick brows. "You Latins have such dark hair."
Rory does not know how to respond, but to her relief, she doesn't have to, because Rose continues babbling on.
"How old are you?"
"I just turned twenty a few weeks ago."
"My, you could pass for fifteen! Maybe even younger. Got to put some meat on those bones."
Rory, growing increasingly uncomfortable with this conversation, shifts her weight onto her other foot. "Should we get going to that appointment?"
"Yes, I think we should. Lord knows you will need it."
∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴
RORY: The next morning, when I was working in the grocery store, I saw a magazine cover story about Sticks 'n' Stones' songwriter in the hospital and whether or not it would delay the release of their next album. It showed the man, Fred Weisz, in his early forties but prematurely balding, with a bit of a potbelly, and teeth blackened from too many cigarettes. It was clear that his lack of beauty didn't matter to the label or to him. We ladies... we are held to a different standard. We have to change things about ourselves to conform.
∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴
An hour and a half later, Rory finally returns home feeling like a chicken whose feathers have just been plucked before slaughter. She can't stop rubbing her finger over the now-hairless skin above her upper lip. They'd also shaped her eyebrows and removed every inch of hair from her legs, but Rose hadn't wanted to stop there. She'd asked the waxing woman if there was "anything you could do about her forearms — they're like a monkey's" but the employee had appeared scandalized by Rose's words and more or less kicked them out.
Luckily, the appointment would be paid for by the label, as would subsequent ones to maintain her appearance, so Rory doesn't have to worry about the cost. She walks into the house feeling unexpectedly drained and kicks her heels off immediately.
"There she is!" Graham exclaims from the living room as soon as she enters through the side door. There's a rumbling sound and he, Warren, and Eddie come crashing into the room with reckless abandon, pushing past each other.
"Rory! Rory!" Eddie cries. "Ow, that was my foot — Rory!"
The still-raw skin around her eyebrows prickles when they shoot up her forehead. "What—?"
Warren reaches her first, shoving a black marker into her hands. "Can I have your autograph?"
"No, me first!" Graham insists, also pushing a marker into her face. "C'mon, Ror, I'm the one who asked you to come to our first practice, so I deserve it!"
"Uh, Rory gave me the last slice of her orange this morning, so I think she likes me best, guys," Eddie chimes in.
She can't help it. A smile breaks across Rory's face as she uncaps the marker Warren had given her. "What do you want me to sign?"
"Uhh..." All of the boys stop trying to push each other and are stumped for a moment. Apparently, they hadn't thought this far.
"You can sign us!" Warren finally decides, pointing to the exposed skin that the undone top three buttons of his shirt provide. "Right here, right here."
Rory rolls her eyes but obeys, signing her name on his chest. Warren grins once he's been autographed and leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head. "Gracias, hermosa." Then he turns toward the other boys and sticks his tongue out at them, snickering, "Suckerrrssss."
"All right, who's next? No, Eddie, please pull your pants back up. I am not signing your left ass cheek."
Once all three boys have been plastered with her signature, each bestowing a kiss on top of her hand in thanks, Billy wanders into the small kitchen, wondering what all the noise is about. His bewildered gaze flickers to Graham, who has 'AURORA MARQUEZ' scrawled across his forehead. He blinks.
"What the fuck," he says, "are you doing."
"We're becoming the first to get Rory's signature since she's a public figure now," Warren explains. "Want one?"
Billy looks at the autographs on Eddie's forearm and Warren's chest. Then he shrugs. "Sure. Why not?"
He holds out the back of his hand for her to sign.
∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴
WARREN: I was the first person in history to get an autograph from Aurora Marquez. [He points to his chest] Right here, over my heart. What a funny example of foreshadowing.
RORY: My first ever autograph was to Graham, Warren, and Eddie. But none of them had any paper so they just had me sign various parts of their bodies. Even Billy let me sign his hand. It was... an interesting experience.
If one thing was for sure, whenever I was feeling down, those boys could always make me laugh.
______
a/n:
if there is one thing for sure, it's that you can always count on the boys to deliver some form of chaos. and i love that about them <3
rory's career has finally kicked off, which is going to be... interesting, to say the least. it's definitely not going to be an easy ride. also, all of the artists she writes for have been made up by me, so any similarities to real-life people are completely unintentional !! every song she creates will come from my own brain. there's nothing i hate more than when i'm reading a fic and the author will be like "i know she didn't write this but pretend that she did" and then they put a taylor swift song or something. lmfao.
i am NOT a songwriter by any means and, as a matter of fact, i always get intimidated when i write lyrics for this book since i have no idea if they're any good. your reactions to "heartstopper" back in chapter 6 made me so happy because i was so self-conscious about the tiny bit of lyrics i included 🥹 let's hope my future lyrics sound okay
anyways, i just had to get that off my chest. i am very excited to reveal the sticks 'n' stones album concept since it's something i've thought about extensively. but also the next chapter is EXTREMELY heavy and will have appropriate warnings at the top like this one did.
here is a photo of the outfit that inspired rory's for the chapter! (i also have a whole board dedicated to potential outfits for my OCs on my pinterest!)
— kristyn
( word count: 3.6k )