Louder Than Thunder

Mary arrived home from the restaurant she worked at during the day. She was slightly pouting about how small her tips were that evening, but she was glad to be home. She walked over to the mirror and started taking her work hair out.
Michelle, who was clacking away at her typewriter, looked up at Mary as her blonde hair cascaded down her back. Mary turned to see why she stopped, and then a tinge of annoyance was in her eyes. Michelle knew that look.
“How was work?” she asked.
Darlene was flipping through a newspaper and drumming on the edge of the coffee table as she read, but turned to her two friends as well when she realized something was wrong.
“I hate it when we get people our age that come. They don’t tip well. Their budget is probably as tight as ours,” Mary explained with a sigh.
She sat down beside Darlene on the couch. It went quiet for a few minutes as the three girls went back to their activities. Around ten minutes later, Darlene broke the silence.
“Do you think Paul will actually be able to get us a gig on Carnaby?”
“What d’you mean?” Michelle asked, as she pulled the page out of the typewriter.
“I think we were too hard on him. I mean, that’s kind of a lot to ask for, and . . . well, Paul’s Paul. He’s never exactly been known for finding the best gigs. Does he even know how to get us into those kinds of places?”
“Well, if he can’t, then I say it’s time for a new manager. Paul hasn’t been exactly helpful in getting us to where we want to be,” Mary said as she leaned her head against Darlene’s shoulder.
“Yeah. I mean, Paul’s nice, you know, and I dig him as a person but we need someone who understands the business better,” Michelle explained.
The phone began ringing off its hook. All the girls stared at it, unsure of whether or not they were in the mood to answer it.
“Michelle, could you get it please?”
“Yeah, sure.”
She put a new paper in the type writer and then ran into the kitchen and plucked it from the wall.
“Hello? Oh, hi Paul . . . You sound a little out of breath. Are you alright?”
Darlene and Mary stuck their heads in the kitchen, the strange conversation gathering their interest. They looked at each other as Michelle went on.
“What do you mean? Paul, j-just calm down! What are you saying?”
“Michelle, is everything alright?” Darlene asked.
“What?! What do you mean?! How did you manage that?!”
“What?!” she yelled at her.
“Let her speak,” Mary ordered, playfully punching her shoulder.
“Ow.”
“Paul, could you just hold on for a moment? Yes, thank you.”
Michelle put her hand over the receiver and looked back and forth between Mary and Darlene, who entered the kitchen slowly.
“What is it?” Darlene asked in a breath.
“Paul, he . . . he didn’t just get us a gig, he got us a tour.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously!”
“Not our own, right?” Mary asked.
“No, we’ll be touring with another band. Paul said he met their manager while going down Carnaby looking for a place that wanted a band. They needed an opening act and Paul made a deal for us to tour with them.”
“Which band?” Darlene asked.
“He said- oh, hold on,” Michelle said, putting her ear back to the speaker. “What’s that Paul?”
“Which band?” Darlene asked again, like a small child.
“We’ll meet you there then, but Paul which band are we-“
A low tone started coming out of the phone.
“Hello? Bugger hung up,” Michelle said, putting the phone back on the base.
“What did he say before?” Mary asked.
“He just explained that we should be packing tonight and tomorrow morning. Paul will drive us into London and we’ll stay at a hotel with the band tonight, and we’ll be flying to America the next morning.”
“America?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. That’s very far away,” Mary said wearily, pulling a chair out from the small circular dining table and sitting down.
“You’re not gonna back out now, are you?” Darlene asked, a slight shock in her voice.
“No, not at all, it’s just . . . wow.”
“Well, what are we waiting for, let’s pack up our stuff!”
Michelle immediately skipped over to the bedroom and began removing her clothes from the closet, took her small luggage bag and began folding the clothes into it nicely.
“The quiet one?” Darlene asked, peaking into her bedroom.
“Darlene, this is it! This is what we’ve been waiting for! It was all worth it,” she exclaimed as she delicately placed clothes in the bag.
Darlene smiled her child-like smile at her before walking over and hugging her tightly. Michelle gently placed the dress currently in hand down and put the same hand on her friend’s arm.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Darlene said.
Michelle began to daydream again as she packed her bag; only this time, she could see these fantasies as real. The possibility of them coming true had just grown infinitely large over their previous chances.
Touring meant publicity, publicity meant people knew who you were. When people know who you are, they get a chance to either like you or not; of course, they preferred that it was mostly the first option.
Michelle placed her favourite shoes - her Chelsea boots – into her bag and then stopped.
“Michelle, have you seen my mascara?” Mary asked popping up at the door.
“Am I dreaming?”
“What?”
“Am I dreaming or am I awake?”
“We’re all awake,” Mary said cheerfully, putting an arm on her friend’s shoulder.
“But we can’t play, Mary. We’re terrible! Why do they want us?”
“We’re not terrible! Don’t let me ever ‘ear you saying that again! They want us for a reason and I’m sure they wouldn’t ‘ave told Paul ‘yes’ if they’d never listened to us at least once. Maybe their manager saw one of our gigs before. He must‘ve liked us and that’s what matters.”
“Alright,” Michelle sighed.
“I’m serious, Chell. Don’t ever let me hear you talk like that again.”
Mary seemed legitimately afraid of what Michelle was saying. Perhaps she also thought it could be a dream – one she didn’t want to wake up from, at that.
“Alright!” she said, smiling while her voice yelled.
“Alright.”

The next morning, they finished up their packing and sat around their apartment one last time. It was grey outside the window of the buzzing but quiet flat. The cases were neatly labeled with stickers, featuring the band’s name in a straight font with little arrows and circles doodled over it in blue and red felt.
Mary sat down on her suit case, trying to get all her clothes to fit inside. Michelle was helping her by trying to bring the zipper around it.
“I don’t think these will all fit,” Michelle stated with a heavy breath.
“They must!” Mary cried as she hopped on it, trying to get the air out of the small spaces between the fabric. “Chell, you try sitting on top. You weigh more than me.”
“Excuse you, I’m probably five inches shorter than you.”
“You’re still rounder than I am.”
“Then we’re even,” Michelle said, holding out her hand.
Mary took it and then the two of them switched places. Surely enough, when Michelle sat down on it, Mary was able to drag the zipper right around the suitcase. Mary gave Michelle a look and a smirk.
“You sure you’re not heav-“
“Don’t even finish that sentence.”
Mary dragged her suitcase into the living room with the other bags. Darlene closed her last drum case and plopped down on the couch. Michelle arrived in the room with her satchel and stood in the doorway of the living room, looking around one last time.
Though the floorboards creaked, it was small, and hardly in working order, this was the space they had come to call home. They did most of their songwriting and practicing there – much to the discontentment of the neighbouring tenants.
Michelle’s frosty pale blue eyes gazed over their living room from under her shaggy hair, like a little girl in need of a haircut. Her upturned nose, pale complexion and petite, boyish frame only added to this effect.
Darlene wore her favourite blue bellbottoms. She casually held a bottle of beer low between her knees and sat slightly bent over. She resembled a child of the beach with her freckles, sandy hair with blonde highlights and slight tan. She had a slight beer gut, being the only bump on her slender and healthy frame.
Mary sat calmly but smiling, and cool as ever. Her platinum blonde hair was done in a bump and her eyeliner was flawless, as usual. She was the tallest at 5’10” and was the thinnest. She could have been a sweet, doe-eyed model if she wanted, but she chose the masculine world of rock ‘n’ roll.
The girls sat in silence until a honk was heard from out the window. Darlene walked over to close it.
“Well, Paul’s here. Did you quit your jobs?” Darlene asked them as she swooshed around the remaining golden liquid in her bottle.
“Yeah,” Mary said with a chuckle. “I was very, erm, blunt to my manager over the phone. I’ll never work there again, so we better not be coming back.”
“I didn’t say anything. I hope that’s not a problem.”
“It’ll be fine, Chell. C’mon, let’s bring this stuff downstairs,” Darlene said, picking up a couple drum cases.
The three of them brought their instruments down first, where Paul was waiting impatiently for them.
“Come on, girls! You can’t let business wait.”
“Great, Paul. Save it for when we actually have business,” Mary snapped.
“We can’t wait all day.”
“Right. Watch our instruments, we’ll get our bags.”
Once all the bags were in the car, the four of them drove off to meet their fate.