TRACK SEVEN:
MAMMA MIA
❝ mamma mia, does it show again
my, my, just how much i've missed you?
yes, i've been brokenhearted
blue since the day we parted ❞
— abba
.•° ✿ °•.
FRANCESCA: We just kept going. Writing more and more songs, and performing them too. More and more, we were just clicking as a band, and it made the work ethic better too.
'Wasn't Born Yesterday' is probably still my favourite off that album. But I remember so many of those songs fondly. 'Tangled' was also a great one...
HANK: The only Rusted Rose song that we kept was 'Where I'm Going' — it's the only one I wrote by myself. I don't know, I've never seen myself as much of a songwriter, I usually left that more to the others. It was the better sound of it with Solstice that got it onto the album, I guess.
VICTORIA: We started doing some gigs with our original songs. There were small audiences at first, and over a few months, they just got bigger and bigger.
CARLO: They were still concentrated into a small part of L.A. but they were a loyal crowd — and in front of them, we could fine-tune our music and figure out what we were doing... it was exciting times!
FRANCESCA: One day, after many, many months, Teddy finally gave us the green light to record the album. It was the February of '71 when we got it. And... I cannot tell you what a feeling that was. I could've hit the roof with how thrilled I was. It felt like– like everything we'd been working for, everything that I'd given up or changed course for, had paid off.
.•° ✿ °•.
It is her dad who answers the phone.
"Hello?" he says. Instantly, Francesca recognises the warm tones of Giovanni Vestri's voice — he speaks as though he has been laughing, like his smile is audible and every word through a sigh of delight. He's in a good mood, she thinks. Hopefully it will be even better after the thrilling news she is ecstatic to tell him about.
"Dad? It's Francesca..."
"Piccolina! I thought you were calling at the weekend, no?"
"Change of plan. I've actually got some news—"
"Who is it, Gio?" inquires her mother in the background.
"It's Francesca!" Giovanni calls back, then returning his attention to his daughter. "Your mother is busy cooking lasagna for tonight. We're having big party, to celebrate the baby. The whole neighbourhood is coming!"
"Wow, that's great," Francesca tries to sound enthusiastic, but wishing she could say her piece. She remembers the scrap of news she heard about in a recent letter — Bruno's wife is expecting another baby. Francesca became an aunt when she was just nineteen, and the two nephews already running around are a handful. She expects the third Vestri baby will be no different.
Just then, Hank comes bouncing into the room, the grin he's been wearing all afternoon still plastered across his face. "Who you talkin' to?" he asks like a giddy schoolboy. "Is it your parents? Did you tell them?"
"Shhhh... no, not yet—"
"Tell us what? Who's that?" her father decides to tune back in again.
"It's nobody, ignore him."
"Is he your boyfriend?"
"What– NO! Dad, just listen for a second, and you'll know what I'm trying to tell you..." Francesca takes a deep breath, but cuts herself off early, because she knows that if she doesn't spit it out soon, her father will rebound onto another topic of conversation — then before you know it, the call is over. "We got it. We got a record deal."
There's a slight pause on the other end of the line. Then she hears the distinct sound of Giovanni slapping his hand against his thigh, a typical sign of celebration from him, before he stops himself and asks once more: "You're not joking? You got the record deal, you– you're making an album, yes?" Giovanni asks, and once it is confirmed, she can hear him let out an overjoyed laugh. "Irene! Our daughter is making an album!"
"What?! You're serious?" Irene asks, now butting in on the phone call as well.
"Yes!"
"And it's stable, you're getting paid?"
"That's the idea..." says Francesca, although her mind does suddenly jolt at the notion of the deal falling through.
After that, the story unravels as she details the momentous occasion to them. Last night, on an ordinary February evening, the band were performing their set. Teddy was in the audience, as he was sometimes, either sniffing out new talent or keeping an eye on Solstice's growing confidence. More and more, they started to gel together on-stage — Goldie's charisma leapt out in her singing, Doug fit more comfortably into the group, and Francesca had even started to leave her stage fright behind. Being on that stage with the others, the fear drained away from her.
They left the building and went to bed, thinking nothing of it...
... Only to be woken the next morning by a phone call from Teddy. It was important.
After rushing down to Ellemar Records, Solstice waited with bated breath to see what would become of them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity's wait, Teddy gave them his stamp of approval. They were ready. By the end of the afternoon, they were walking down Sunset Boulevard as official artists under the label, their signatures glistening with fresh ink on the record deal.
Francesca was still pinching herself. They were going to make a record. And what's more, Teddy had volunteered to produce it personally. What if she woke up tomorrow and it was all a dream? Instead, she told herself to just enjoy the euphoria while it lasted, and to this very moment she is still doing just that. Even through the onslaught of practical questions from her mum and dad, she cannot help but feel like she's on cloud nine... and it occurs to her:
How many times has she been able to celebrate herself, just her own achievements, with her parents? Not with her brothers around, not conjoined with some other event to be more efficient, but focused purely on congratulating her for a job well done? Francesca has to rack her brains to remember such a moment. This one, however, will go down in history. The mutual joy and appreciation trickling down the phone chord from both ends warms her heart.
For a fleeting moment, they feel like a trio — Francesca, her mother and her father — and she loves it.
"Antonio will be so happy for you. He always chased the music too, didn't he? Wait until he finds out..." Giovanni then says.
"Yeah, I know," Francesca smiles, scratching her head, "I was gonna call him afterwards."
"What are you talking about?" Irene interjects, as if her daughter has just said something completely illogical. "Don't waste phone bills on that. I'll go and get him for you... TONY!"
"He's with you guys?"
"Of course," says her father. "He's living with us."
Francesca does a double take. "What—"
"Hey..." Now it's Tony's voice on the other end of the line, clear as day. He sounds tired and somewhat fed up. Her brain has barely had time to catch up on all the information — when did he move back into their childhood home? And why did no one think to tell her? Was something lost along the way? But now he's here, and Francesca has to tell her brother the good news.
She explains everything, from beginning to end, and Tony is silent for most of it. The only thing she can hear in-between are his small gasps, or hushed exclamations of "Really?" or "No way." Still, nothing gives an inkling of what he thinks of it until she stops talking.
"Francesca, that's incredible... you did it. You actually did it!"
The person she wanted to hear those words from the most — Francesca feels a bubble of pride pop in her chest, spreading adrenaline and sparks to the tips of her fingers and toes. He's right... she finally did it. "Thanks," she grins through the words, gripping the telephone chord, "but I couldn't have done any of this without you."
"Me?"
"Yeah! You're the one who spurred me onto this whole finding myself thing. If it weren't for you, I might still be a waitress in Waterbury."
"Well, it doesn't surprise me at all. You've got something special. And I'm glad the band seems to be working out for ya."
"Thanks..." There is an uncomfortable pause, Francesca searching for the right words. "Hey, so, when did you move back in with Mom and Dad?"
She hears him sigh sharply. "Uh... a few months ago, maybe. I'm in my old room and everything."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Didn't come up... you don't have to sound so worried."
"Well, can you blame me? No one ever tells me anything anymore!" Francesca chuckles, as if it's some lighthearted joke, but inside something about it hurts. "Um, so anyway, I was just telling Mom and Dad that I'm gonna try and come home later this year. I hate that it took so long, I just had to watch my money, but things should be a little more stable hopefully. Maybe I'll see you at Thanksgiving or Christmas?"
"That would be cool. You can finally meet Danny."
At the mention of her youngest nephew, Francesca beams. There is a tinge of bittersweetness to it as well... she was in New York when Daniel, or 'Danny' was born, so she has never met him. "How old is he again? He must be—"
"He'll be two years old next week. And Mickey's about four, I think."
"Seriously? He's getting so big."
"More like a big pain in the ass, if you ask me."
Francesca laughs and says, "Well, I should probably go. I think the celebration's already started."
"What celeb– oh, right, yeah. Well... enjoy it. You deserve it. I'll talk to you soon. Bye."
"Bye, I love—" She tries to tell him once more, but she is handed back to her parents, who fire a few more practical questions and I love yous her way before Francesca finally hangs up. Out of the window, the canyon gleams with the setting sun, music thumping from inside the living room. Life feels good. Getting on her feet again, she meanders back through to where the others are, filling glasses of champagne for themselves. The room is charged with energy as Carlo has selected some Led Zeppelin to play — a good outlet for the giddy excitement they are all experiencing.
Goldie, turning around, grins and says, "You're here!"
"I am... and you're drinking champagne?" Francesca gawps at the fancy bottle sat on the coffee table.
"Only for the very best occasions, hon," says the singer, using the new nickname she recently dubbed the rhythm guitarist with. Behind Goldie's eyes, there is a fleeting stabbing of uncertainty, but above all she seems elated to be here with them all; still, Francesca can't forget that look.
The band gathering around, giggling over their drinks, Hank is the one to propose the toast: "I just wanted to say, uh... well, thanks, I guess," he admits sheepishly. "I thought I'd completely fucked up our chances until a few months ago. So, to new beginnings... and to Solstice."
"To Solstice!"
Their glasses clink together, guzzling the bubbly drink before Doug staggers over to the stereo, cranking up the volume on Led Zeppelin's 'Immigrant Song' for the whole canyon to hear — and all through the night, they laugh and dance, high on the promise of what the future holds for them...
.•° ✿ °•.
On the 3rd of May, 1971, Solstice released their self-titled debut album, 'Solstice'. It did not achieve widespread commercial success, but it did grow them a steady fanbase all along the West Coast.
ALICIA MALHOTRA: As far as debut albums go, Solstice weren't off to a shaky start. There was real promise in what they produced. 'Wasn't Born Yesterday' and 'Ashes To Ashes' were the particular stand-outs, whether it was sonically or lyrically.
The commercial performance? Still fine, but maybe not as seismic as one could hope. It was never going to be the kind of explosive album that took the world by storm. Solstice is overall a good easy-listening kind of rock album, the one you can put on your morning drive to work with the windows down. It certainly established them in L.A. and just beyond. I don't doubt that it would have secured them better venues to perform at, as well, which of course snowballs into further success...
Interestingly, the cover art for the album is somewhat modest as well, not advertising the faces of any of the band. The cover of Solstice plays more on the name, I suppose — it's an illustration done by Francesca Vestri herself. It looks like a kaleidoscope of sorts, gold and amber hues filling in the celestial symbols decorating it. It's the only album of theirs that adopts this look, because the rest feature at least one of the two members on the front.
There's no denying that many eyes were on this band because of Goldie Rhodes. I'm afraid there is no sugarcoating that. I suppose there was a curiosity, wondering why she's come back, why now, and why with this lot? I think listeners came for Goldie, but stayed for the rest of the band, ultimately — because each member had some spark about them that made them stand out. It just hadn't had the chance to properly shine yet. But in due time, they did, of course.
FRANCESCA: I was happy with what we'd achieved. Just to have an album at all was incredible, to see it on shelves and everything. It wasn't a huge BOOM into our careers or anything... I don't remember seeing much of the money we made on that first album... but I'm still so proud of what we did.
HANK: I don't think the label really believed in us the same way that Teddy did at the time. They didn't invest as much time and money in us at the start, so we didn't tour specifically. That wasn't until the second album. We kinda had to take it into our own hands — organising gigs at different venues, just like we'd done before. Except this time was different. This time, we had an audience who were there to see us.
ALICIA MALHOTRA: The debut album was a baby step, but an important one, for sure.
.•° ✿ °•.
Through the dusty window, the open road winds and bends into the horizon, before straightening into the long, never-ending stretch the van recently entered. It has been a similar view to the last few days — state after state, the landscape changing around them, completely new.
Graham falls back into his sort-of seat with a sigh. He gazes over at the front seats, Warren currently at the wheel with Eddie riding shotgun, the latter turning a map at every angle to check they're definitely going the right way. Then he steals a glance to his right, at his brother. Billy, as always, is otherwise occupied. The older Dunne brother sits hunched over a notebook of scribbled lyrics, his features pinched into deep crevices of concentration. Billy only spares the occasional glance up at Camila, who's sat next to Graham, perhaps reminding himself how lucky he is that she came on this trip at all...
They're going to California.
How did it start? Graham isn't quite sure. He knows just the other week, one whole day changes his life in three ways:
Number #1: Chuck Loving quit the band. The Dunne Brothers pulled up outside his garage, in the new van Warren had just bought, ready to practice as usual... only to find the door shut and locked. Chuck was sitting on the doorstep, looking downcast. He sheepishly admitted that he got into college, and he was going to become a dentist (a fucking dentist?!).
Number #2: Karen Sirko. Graham could just leave it at that, honestly, and it would sum it up. But from the moment they walked into the bar and saw The Winters onstage, his eyes were drawn like a magnet to the girl in the turtleneck on the keyboard. It had been a long time since someone had turned his head like that — her backing vocals were like a siren's call in the microphone, fingers massaging the keys, her sweeping blonde hair framed in a halo by the golden studio lights. Graham could feel himself fumbling every word as she spoke to Karen backstage, while she was cool, calm and collected. And then, just like that, she was gone... maybe nothing would ever become of it, but she certainly left her mark.
And finally, Number #3: Rod Reyes was in the audience. By some stroke of luck, the man with all the connections found the Dunne Brothers and shed all his words of wisdom (Graham specifically remembers being told to cut half his solos, for they were "interesting for people who liked technical guitar, but boring for everyone else"). Most importantly, he pointed them to the direction of L.A., because that is where they would find their calling.
Graham remembers almost chuckling at that sentence. Where had he heard that before?
Was it an impulsive decision? Absolutely. But it was also perhaps the most exciting thing Graham had done, and he could safely say he speaks for the others as well. It was time to get out of Pittsburgh.
Thinking he'll create some casual conversation, Graham sucks in a breath through his teeth and asks, casually, "That keyboardist really added something to the mix, didn't she?"
"Who, Karen?" Camila asks, a cigarette in one hand and the other rifling through pages of a book.
"Yeah... yeah, Karen."
Noting the dreamy way he says this, Camila smirks slyly at him. "Yeah. Yeah, she did."
Graham lets out a wheeze of a laugh, grinning as he feels his skin flush hot. From the front, Warren cranes his neck around and croons, "Oh man, Peaches, you're smitten... haven't seen you this hung up over a girl since Frankie left town."
"Dude, eyes on the road!" Eddie reminds him quickly, pointing through the windscreen.
But Graham loses the rest of the guys' bickering, for his mind has jumped to the one person he's been pretending he wasn't thinking about this whole time — Francesca. The name has a bittersweet sound to it these days. Suddenly he is nineteen again, playing guitar under the overhanging clouds of Pittsburgh with her. And he's watching her disappear into the airport... and it stings. Then again, doesn't first love always sting a little bit?
Camila is the one who asks the question he's tried to avoid: "I wonder if she's still in L.A.?"
"Probably..." thinks Graham.
"I bet she's grown her hair out and hangs out with some hippies in Laurel Canyon," Eddie chuckles. "That's probably her scene."
"Well, whatever she's doing, I'm sure she's fine."
"Why didn't you guys stay in touch?" Warren asks. "I miss her. She was a cool chick."
"I didn't mean to lose touch, remember? But, y'know, maybe it was for the best... it's in the past. I've moved on, and I'm sure she has too," says Graham, as if to really say, Let's not go down that rabbit hole. With a quiet hum, Camila feigns agreement, whilst Billy has completely ignored the whole conversation and been absorbed in his own work. Graham sighs again, looking out of the window once more and watching the road crawl past him...
.•° ✿ °•.
GRAHAM: I mean, I had thought about it. You know... that maybe I'd see her again. But then again, California was huge, and so much time had passed between us by that point. I didn't expect to bump into her. Besides, I'd moved on — I was a little more focused on Karen at that point, if you know what I mean...
But I'd be lying if I said it never crossed my mind.
.•° ✿ °•.
Hot summer nights in L.A. are perfect to go looking for music. With the string of multiplying gigs they have been playing recently, Solstice decide a night out is just what they need. To re-charge. To get more inspiration. As far as Hank is concerned, the sooner they start thinking about their next album, the better.
Francesca walks at the back of the group, Hank up at the front with Goldie, whilst Doug and Victoria are sandwiched in the middle, Carlo a little farther behind. The group is much more solidified now — Doug recently moved into the house in Laurel Canyon with them, the final touch to their little musical family. Every night, they make the effort to eat dinner together, often staying at the table for an hour or two after they've finished eating, chatting and laughing as the night fades away. Even better, when they are on-stage together, it just works.
Tonight is no different in terms of the jovial atmosphere. Currently, the conversation is revolving around Carlo's love life — he and his new girlfriend, Debbie, have been inseparable most of the time. This night out has been the first where they have been able to pry the pair apart.
"— Look, I'm still showing up to gigs and practices!" Carlo defends his great romance.
"Yeah," Hank snorts, "and you spend every gig grinning like an idiot at the back."
"Oh, give him a break," Goldie coos, "the boy's in looove..."
As they pass Filthy McNasty's — one of the clubs they have frequented to perform once or twice — Francesca opens her mouth to add something, then cuts herself off instantly. From inside the club, there is the muffled blues-charged melody of a song she's never heard before, and even something about the guitar seem familiar. But it when the singing starts that she stops dead in her tracks:
"I put the man in the moon,
I put the dial in the tone..."
That voice. Francesca would know it anywhere. But... it couldn't be... could it?
The others have moved on without her, chatting away oblivious to her disappearance. But like a moth drawn to a flame, Francesca can't shake off the magnetic pull anymore. Before she even thinks about it, she finds her hands reaching to push open the doors into McNasty's, the music growing louder and more pristine in her ears as she does.
"I lit the southern stars
I put the heathens peace
And then I hit the bird in the bush
And someone called the police..."
Francesca surveys the crowd, pushing through until she is lost in the sea of people, hidden by the dim lights. She has a clear view of the stage. First her eyes shoot to the left of the stage — she's never seen that girl before. A keyboardist, with sweeping blonde hair and wearing a turtleneck. So far, so good. But then Francesca looks across the rest of the stage, panning slowly from left to right...
"And I know you don't mean it
I know you don't mean it
I know you don't mean it
Because you can't turn around,
And look me in the eye..."
Oh, yes. There is Eddie Roundtree, still as tall and slender as when Francesca first met him, except he's on the bass instead of rhythm guitar. Next to him on the drums is Warren Rojas, his same jovial smile never worn thin after all this time. Front and centre-stage is, of course, Billy Dunne, his hair beaded with sweat and clinging to his face as his lips graze the microphone... and then...
Francesca feels her heartbeat lodge in her throat.
There he is. Graham, on the guitar, just as she remembers him. Only he's not a teenager fresh out of High School, practicing in his best friend's garage — he is a twenty-something, back-lit by the studio lights of a club on the Sunset Strip, miles away from Pittsburgh and suddenly a stone's throw away from Francesca. His silhouette seems so different and yet exactly as she remembers it. Graham's mannerisms while he plays take her straight back to Pittsburgh, watching him play 'Suzie Q'...
Francesca has so many questions. What? When? How? Why? But all of them vanish when she sees him start to look out at the crowd again.
Naturally, her first impulse is to retreat. And that is exactly what she does. He must miss her by an inch, because Francesca ducks out of his view and runs back to the door, and none of the others seem to react. When she gets outside, she gasps for a breath of fresh air, re-fastening her bag over her shoulder. Francesca starts speed-walking away from the bar. Her heart hammers wildly in her ribcage with a flurry of mixed emotions — on the one hand, there is complete despair over the world not being so small after all, and then there is also joy... because ultimately, when she thinks back to her time in Pittsburgh, so many happy memories were made there, not just with Graham. So if he is here... then surely...
"Fran?!"
She cannot say no to that voice. Stopping in her tracks, Francesca whirls around; Camila Alvarez is standing there, the spitting image of how she remembers her. Once their eyes meet, her old friend lets out an involuntary squeal, jogging towards her and outstretching her arms immediately. It's second nature for Francesca to reciprocate, and they collide in an excited hug — for a few moments, all of the awkwardness of the moment before drains away, and she just enjoys this unlikely reunion. Rosemary... Camila's hair still smells distinctly of it.
"Oh my God, I knew it was you! I can't believe you're here!" Camila babbles away, gripping her shoulders. "I mean, I knew you were here, of course, but we thought we might never bump into you again... small world, huh?"
"Yeah, small world," Francesca laughs, a little uneasily now. "What are you all doing here?"
"Well, it's kind of a long story, but the short answer is: same reason as you. Music."
"Oh... that's great!"
Camila senses her hesitance about it, and jumps into clarify, "Just for the record—" but she soon gets cut off. Behind her, Warren Rojas emerges from McNasty's like a human party-popper.
"Yo, Frankie's here!" Warren cheers, already zooming over to greet her. To Francesca's surprise, he wraps his arms around her waist and spins her around, and she lets out a surprised laugh.
Then Eddie's here, too, swallowing her in an embrace, and even Billy gives her a chaste hug (he's probably riding the high of being on-stage, Francesca assumes)...
Graham is slightly hidden behind Eddie at first, but soon he's being nudged forward — now they can't possibly ignore each other. Francesca feels herself holding her breath... and her palms are definitely sweating. At first, they stare like they're in a face-off, trying to gauge telepathically what page they are on. They have a history, which feels both relevant and completely irrelevant in the moment.
"Hi," she eventually says, barely a murmur.
"Hi..." Graham replies, managing a small smile.
It seems amicable, at least. Just painfully awkward. The two of them would rather be anywhere else right now.
Say something, she thinks, anything!
"Sorry, I don't think we've met," the blonde keyboardist interjects, thankfully, breaking up the silence. Even her voice is as calm and collected as she looks, with a British accent. She holds out a hand to shake. "I'm Karen. I only recently joined the band."
"Oh, nice to meet you," Francesca shakes Karen's hand, which is just as firm as hers. "I'm Francesca."
KAREN SIRKO (keyboardist, Daisy Jones & The Six): It was a strange note to start on, I'll admit. In that moment, I felt like everyone else knew something that I didn't... 'course, it soon became clear that Graham and Francesca had dated in Pittsburgh, and the awkwardness made much more sense. Still, I thought Francesca seemed cool, and I was only proven right later on.
"There you are! We were so busy talking, we realised we'd lost you," Goldie's voice suddenly chimes from behind Francesca, a slight giggle carrying it along.
"Holy shit," Eddie can't hide his starstruck shock.
"Goldie Rhodes..." Warren also utters.
"Hello, boys," Goldie replies; Francesca is amused by the whole thing, since now knowing the girl as a friend, she forgets that she was such a star beforehand. "Uh... do you know these guys?"
"Well—"
"Wait a second, you know Goldie Rhodes?" Billy asks, incredulously.
Is everyone just going to pretend we're picking up where we left off? Francesca thinks in a sweat.
"Kind of a long story, but short answer... yes," she replies, adopting Camila's method. The rest of Solstice have now gathered behind her, and she figures that introductions cannot be ignored now. Francesca sighs. "Um, well, I'm actually in a band... and these are my bandmates. We're Solstice." She waits for the Dunne Brothers to react, interested hums rippling through them. "And guys," she turns back to Solstice, "this is the Dunne Brothers, I met them all when I was in Pittsburgh a couple of years ago. We're..."
Francesca's voice trails off, her eyes meeting Graham's.
"... old friends."
A beat passes. The sidewalk, which is now very crowded, falls into an awkward silence of what to say next (Francesca, meanwhile, wishes the gutter would open and swallow her whole). Graham clasps his hands and wrings them together, announcing loudly, "Well, you guys look like you're busy—"
"Yeah, we were just heading out—" agrees Francesca.
"— so, we'll be on our way!"
"Great! It was nice to see you—"
"Whoa, wait a minute, we have so much to catch up on..." Camila interjects, her tone sounding a little sad at the sudden break-up of the groups. Immediately, Francesca feels guilty for trying to run off — she does want to catch up. But equally, she wants to move to a different state if it means avoiding this situation.
"Hey, it's okay," Hank pipes up, surprisingly breezy about the whole thing; he's been in a good mood since the album came out. "We were just heading out to get some drinks. There's this great place nearby, you wanna join us?"
Francesca and Graham shoot each other a look.
"That would be great, wouldn't it, Billy?" Camila says emphatically. To Francesca's horror, the usually stubborn-as-hell Dunne brother just rolls with the new plan.
FRANCESCA: Bumping into your ex is never ideal. Getting drinks with them afterwards is even worse. And that's nothing against Graham, or anyone, it was just... [Sighs] Let's just say it wasn't my first choice of a night out.
GRAHAM: Neither of us knew what to say at the beginning. I mean, I was glad to see her. But bumping into someone you once knew everything about, shared everything with, and now you're both like strangers to one another... that sucks.
CAMILA: Sure, I sensed that things were weird between them. Although I believe sometimes forced proximity can be a good thing. Besides, I wanted to meet the rest of Fran's band properly.
"A dentist? Seriously?"
Rolling their eyes at this fact themselves, the boys nod. "Well," Francesca hums, "at least you know who to call if you ever break a tooth."
She is being given the story by Eddie, Camila and Graham on how The Dunne Brothers have ended up in L.A. — they had just reached the part where Chuck quit the band. They go on to explain that since they were opening for The Winters that same night, they needed a new bass player fast, and Eddie stumbled into the role (somewhat unwillingly, Francesca notices, given the way he sighs at the mention of it). That same night, only a few months ago, would be the same one where they met Karen and Rod Reyes.
According to Camila, she wasn't originally meant to tag along. It had spelled big trouble for her relationship with Billy — one which had still been going even after Francesca left Pittsburgh — but after some thinking, and plenty of arguments with her parents, Camila decided to follow the boys to California. As usual, she exudes the same steadfast confidence in her decisions, as though this was the way it was always meant to be. If she was unsure about it all, she doesn't show it.
All huddled in the booth at a club on the Sunset Strip, they have been swapping stories and updating the others. Francesca explains the origins of the band, with Carlo and Victoria also joining Rusted Rose, meeting Goldie in the record store, and Richie's tantrum. Graham's eyes go wide in awe when she mentions Teddy Price (for that part, he has to rein Billy into the conversation, who hangs onto every word). Then she talks about settling into Laurel Canyon, as briefly as possible, and how soon after meeting Doug they found their inspiration for the album.
"Album? You have an album?!" Graham's jaw drops, already grinning with pride. Francesca beams, and it feels like the first moment they've shared in this bizarre reunion that harks back to the ease they had in Pittsburgh.
"Since when?" Billy asks, determined to find out how this was achieved.
"Oh, it's been out since May," says Francesca. "It's not huge, but it's a start."
"That's amazing! I knew you would do it," Camila cheers her on.
Francesca lets out a slightly breathy laugh, her gaze flickering up to Graham's. The night hasn't been so bad after all — it has been a joy to catch up with her friends like this, including him, finding out the paths their lives have taken since. One of her biggest regrets was losing touch... but, now that some of the initial awkwardness has subsided, she only wishes she could get a moment alone with Graham. To say what? She has no idea. All she knows is, right now, it feels like they are both just being swept along without a moment to just reach out to the other.
The rest of the band members from either side seem to be mingling, too. Francesca scans the table across from them, where the others are sat. Warren, Carlo and Doug are excitedly sharing stories about their favourite music, which Hank has just joined in now that Billy's gone.
DOUG: I think something Warren and I have always shared is our approach to the bands we were in. We just wanted to be there for the ride. If it's a hit, great; if it's not, fine. I dug that about him.
WARREN: It's cool, really, how we all hit it off. At least I hit it off with Doug and Carlo...
HANK: Billy was asking Goldie all kinds of questions about the industry, and I guess I hopped in on the conversation too. I thought I was insufferable for talking my ass about music, but fuck me, Billy Dunne could go on and on... at least back then. You could tell he was passionate, don't get me wrong. I dig that... [Scratches the back of his neck] I'll admit, though, I was kinda relieved when Graham dragged him back over to the other table. And I think Goldie was too. [Grins]
KAREN: I was just happy to find another Brit in L.A... they existed, of course, but it was still a completely new city to me, with people I didn't know well enough yet, and I guess Victoria caught onto that immediately. She remembered how that felt. So, yeah, we kind of hooked onto one another at the beginning.
"Have I missed anything good?" Victoria asks, emerging at the side of the table with a beer bottle in her hand. "Sorry I've been away, Karen and I got chatting and completely lost track of time... go on, budge up, Francesca."
Francesca obliges, the booth getting rather cosy now that Victoria is perched on the edge as well. The blonde's gaze pierces across the table to the members of The Dunne Brothers sitting opposite them.
"You still haven't introduced me to the guys, yet,"
"Oh, right, sorry..." Francesca mumbles. She is starting to feel like she always does at her family reunions — loud and happy for the most part, sure, but equally claustrophobic and repetitive in how many times introductions are made, or dinner table stories repeated for that one uncle who was taking a bathroom break during the punchline. "Guys, this is Victoria. Victoria, this is Billy, Graham and Eddie. Warren's over there with the others."
"Nice to meet you," Victoria shakes each of their hands over the table, Eddie's being the last one. The guys all murmur greetings back as she does. When pulling her hand away from Eddie's, she seems to retract it slower than the others, looking him up and down.
"Eddie's a bassist, like you."
"Oh, really?" Victoria stares at him curiously; her interest clearly piqued before that piece of information, though.
"Only since recently," Eddie quickly adds.
"Well, better late than never, right?"
Graham and Francesca happen to meet eyes again, and finally Camila seems to notice. After daintily dabbing her lips with a napkin, she says, "Hey, guys... why don't we go check out the jukebox? I wanna see if they have that album I like on there." She tries not to be so obvious, but then she spells it out to the other boys — eyes darting pointedly towards the exes — and they catch on. Victoria also catches on, except she lacks the whole context of exactly why a moment alone with Graham is so important.
Once the others have filed away, it's just the two of them. Graham drums his hands on the table. "So... sounds like you've been pretty busy," he says.
"I could say the same for you," Francesca replies.
"Yeah, but an album?"
She laughs at the mention of it again, a laugh of disbelief. Every reminder just leaves her feeling so, so fortunate. Graham is smiling too. Francesca's breath hitches in her throat as she takes him in. So many mixed emotions swirl inside her, now that he is sat in front of her — he still looks the same, feels the same in so many ways. But they have both grown older too, and two years is a significant time to be out of the loop. It occurs to her that this is not necessarily the same Graham Dunne she met in 1969. She can't pick up a conversation like it was yesterday. And she isn't the same Francesca Vestri, either.
"I'm sorry, this is... surreal," she finally blurts out.
She worries that she ruined the moment by saying it. But Graham blows out a sigh of relief, shaking his head. "I know, right?"
"Can you believe it's been two years already?"
"Nope..."
A beat passes. Graham swallows thickly.
"I, um... I tried calling you... but I thought, maybe, it was a sign that you didn't wanna hear from me... and, y'know, I get it..."
Francesca feels her skin flush hot, before draining back to cool again. What? When? She furrows her eyebrows at him. It feels like poking an old bruise she thought had healed. "I thought you didn't wanna hear from me. I wrote you a letter, and you... never replied..." Now that she says it out loud, she feels silly. They had broken up. What else was there to say?
"I know, and I'm so sorry," Graham apologises wholeheartedly. "But I kept that letter — you know, you wrote your new number and address on it? And I tried calling you a few months later, but I never got through. One day, I got through to some old lady, and she told me you didn't live there."
"Old lady?"
"Yeah. I assumed she was your landlady or something."
"... Did you definitely call the right number?"
"Just like you wrote down. And the address, I tried sending something too, at 12—"
"72."
"What?" Graham fumbles.
"My apartment number was 72, not 12," says Francesca. "How did you even get it that wrong?"
"I swear to God you wrote 12... didn't you?"
Determined to settle this, Francesca grabs a nearby napkin. She gets out a pen from her bag and scribbles the numbers 12 and 72 on it. When she is done, she spins it around for Graham to see — he leans forward on his elbows and hunches over what she has written, squints, and then draws back looking stunned.
"Okay, I don't know what's up with your handwriting, but your 7s look like 1s."
"They do not!" Francesca exclaims.
"Yes, they do! You can't look at that and tell me it's not a 7."
"That is obviously a 1. You need to get your eyes tested."
For a moment, Francesca and Graham stare at each other, incredulous over the information — then they burst out into laughter. All at once, it relieves the tension of the evening, getting past the bizarreness of this meeting.
GRAHAM: I stand by that. Her 7s look like 1s, it's weird.
FRANCESCA: But, I mean... of course that wasn't the only reason why we hadn't called, or hadn't written. I think we both knew that. It's like, "What do you talk about?" Because we we both trying to move on. We were making new lives for ourselves. Yet at the same time, we were so important to one another once upon a time, and it's hard to just... forget that.
Right now, they want to forget about whatever has passed. Eyes twinkling, they smile back at each other, growing quiet again. Graham's hand starts to slide across the table, his palm resting flat in the centre of it, like an olive branch.
"Listen, I—"
"Peaches! It's your song!" Warren hollers and cuts him off, swaying drunkenly along with the current jukebox song. He got a little carried away with the social drinks he shared with Carlo and Doug, it seems, staggering like he's standing on a ship's deck.
"Well, shit... he's gonna enjoy that hangover tomorrow," Graham sighs, shooting a reluctant look back at Francesca. "I should probably, uh—"
"It's okay," Francesca nods quickly, masking the pang of disappointment. "Go. Or else who knows what Warren'll end up regretting in the morning."
"You know perfectly well Warren never regrets anything."
Francesca laughs again, watching Graham swim through the sea of people to sit Warren down. What was he going to say to her? If they are all in L.A. now, too, she is sure their paths will cross again. The world was already small enough to reunite them like this — it both over-joys and despairs her.
Goldie floats over, smoothing down her gunne sax dress as she sits next to Francesca. She gazes out at the room with her. "So," she asks, "which one is he?"
"Who?"
"The ex-boyfriend, of course. The lover-boy from Pittsburgh."
"Is it that obvious?" Francesca cringes.
"Run-ins with an ex aren't fun. I know one when I see one. Now, which one?" Once Francesca picks out Graham in the crowd, Goldie smiles but combines it with a sympathetic sigh. "Aw, he seems like a sweetheart. No wonder you struggled to let him go."
Thanks for rubbing it in. "And not for a lack of trying..." Francesca mumbles.
Noticing her strained expression, Goldie pats her hand encouragingly. "Hey. Whatever you're feeling, feel it. You're allowed to feel a little confused about it all. Besides, at least it's not like you'll have to see him every day, right?"
.•° ✿ °•.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
frangraham are FINALLY reunited! not without angst or mixed emotions, of course, but reunited nonetheless. ugh, i've missed writing camila and the six scenes so much, and now we have karen too! i'm so excited to explore not only the complicated (and sometimes strained) dynamic with francesca and graham as exes, but also all the other ways in which the two bands will interact, both good and bad. what impressions do you get so far? all i can say is that frangraham aren't the only solstice/the six couple 👀👀👀
also solstice released their first album 🥳 the beginning of their slow climb to greatness...
i forgot to mention this in the last chapter, but we are officially halfway through ACT ONE! there are 12 chapters in it overall, so we're getting there. once again, thank you for being so patient while i'm essentially using these first chapters as exposition and world-building, it will pay off in the end, i promise.
as always, thank you for reading! this is likely the last parallel roads chapter of 2023, in which case i want to wish you all a happy new year. i'll see you in 2024 🥂
Published: November 26th, 2023