Louder Than Thunder

Paul stopped the car in front of a majestic, tall hotel. Mary, who sat in the front seat, turned back at her friends, stifling an ecstatic smile. Michelle and Darlene returned looks of excitement and uncertainty. Paul hopped out of the car first and handed the keys off.
“This place has a valet,” Mary said, watching as Paul opened the trunk of the car.
“Shall we help with the bags,” Michelle suggested, opening her door.
“Yes.”
The girls were about to start dragging the bags that were stuffed in the back seat into the lobby when a bellboy pulled up with a trolley, offering to bring them in.
“Thank you,” Darlene said as he took her duffel bag.
“No problem. Nice accent. American?” he asked as he took Michelle and Mary’s bags as well.
“Yeah. Californian.”
“Cool.”
They helped Paul get the instrument cases out of the trunk and the bellboy placed them on the trolley carefully. They then followed Paul inside. The lobby of the hotel was nice, with faux gold and marble covering almost every inch. The reception area was busy this morning. Paul told the girls to wait by the staircase while he checked them in.
“Would ya look at this place?” Darlene exclaimed in wonder as she looked down the wide room at the top of the staircase, which connected a few conference rooms as well as the door to the pool.
“I am looking,” Mary said, leaning against the handrail.
“Who do you think we’re playing for?” Michelle asked.
“They must have some kinda money.”
Paul came back a few moments later, organizing some paperwork in his arms, sheets hanging off and threatening to fly out and float to the ground.
“Alright, girls. We’re on the ninth floor. Let’s go. Bellboy? Bellboy!”
The bellboy, who was standing near the entrance, looked up from a small notebook he was writing in. He shoved the notebook in his pocket and grabbed an edge of the trolley and began pulling it along with ease. He arrived with the rest of the group just as the elevator door opened.
The girls entered, and were pushed to the sides as the trolley was brought in. Paul got in last, the door closed and they were going up. It was a quiet ride up.
“So, you’re a band?” the bellboy asked.
“Yeah,” Mary answered, neither unashamed nor modestly.
It went quiet again. When the door opened, the bellboy pulled the trolley out first. The rest followed.
“What room, sir?”
“We ‘ave rooms 915 and 916,” Paul read from a sheet of paper in his arms.
He pulled out two room keys and handed one to the girls.
“You get a room to yourself?” Mary asked, astounded.
“Me ‘n’ all your instruments and any bag with something you don’t need. Besides, you don’t wanna be sharin’ a room with ol’ Paul, your terrible manager who can’t do anything.”
Mary smiled weakly, no sign of shame for her earlier words.
“Thanks for getting this for us, Paul,” Darlene said as their hotel room opened up in front of them.
The bellboy held the door of the room open, a kind smile on his face and a tip of his hat. The girls walked into the room. It was nicer than their apartment; that much was definite. Though the size was similar, everything worked the way it was supposed to, the walls were colourful, and there were decorations.
“Hey, this isn’t bad,” Darlene stated as she laid out on the bed.
The bellboy began bringing their bags in, with direction from Paul of which ones were going in their room and which were going in his. He left to open his room so the bellboy could drop off the rest of the bags there
Michelle climbed on the opposite bed and sat Indian-style.
“These are certainly taller than our beds. Softer too,” she noted, patting down the blankets.
Mary didn’t say a word, but she looked impressed as she sat down on the edge of the same bed, crossing her legs with poise. The bellboy returned to the hallway to grab the trolley.
“If you girls need room service or anythin’, the numbers are by the phone,” he called into the open door.
“Alright!” Darlene called back.
With that, he returned down the hallway to the elevator. Darlene scrunched up her face in realization.
“Wait, what’s room service?” she asked.
“You’ve never stayed in a hotel before?” Mary asked, slightly taken aback.
“No,” Michelle replied.
“You neither?”
“No.”
“Well, room service is just that, really. We can call down if we want food, or a newspaper, if the bathroom runs out of toilet paper, whatever we need.”
“Whoa, really?
“Yeah.”
Just then, Paul returned to their room.
“Settled yet, girls?”
“Not really,” Michelle said with a snarky smile.
“Right, well, the boys are in a conference room for an interview starting off the tour and-”
“Paul, you still ‘aven’t told us who we’re touring with,” Mary snapped.
“Oh, haven’t I?”
“Would we be asking you?” Darlene asked with a chuckle.
“Here’s a hint,” Paul said, walking over to the desk, where a pile of magazines sat.
He pulled out a copy of a teen magazine, the cover filled with familiar faces. He opened it up to a page with a full spread, featuring a full-page photo and an article written about them. He dropped the magazine on the bed in front of Mary and Michelle. Darlene hopped over and gazed down at the title of the article as well.
The Leatherjackets: What Do They Look For In A Girl?
The girls gazed back up at Paul, wonder written across their faces.
“You got us a gig with the Leatherjackets?” Darlene asked.
“Yep,” Paul answered, sitting in the chair near the desk.
“I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” Mary said, putting her hands on her hips with a small smile.
“I am.”
“Good. You’ve done well, peasant.”
“My God,” was all Michelle could say.
“Keith Jones. I’ve fancied him since their first album came out,” Mary said, picking the magazine up by the page with the photo.
“Really? I dig Eric Archer. He always seemed like a cool guy,” Darlene explained.
“Drummers get drummers.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know, I just find that drummers like other drummers a lot.”
“Oh.”
“I’m glad you girls are happy,” Paul said, standing up, preparing to exit. “You’ll be meeting with the band as soon as their interviews are done, which should be in about half an hour. Feel free to explore, but try and get back here on time. This is business now and there are certain schedules that need to be tended to.”
“Yes, Paul.”
“Great. I’ll be picking you up here. See you girls then.”
“See ya!”
“See you then, Paul.”
Once Paul was gone, the girls continued going through the magazine and reading the articles about them.
“This is great,” Darlene said. “This would’ve made mom so proud.”
“I’m sure it would have,” Mary affirmed, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Michelle, you ‘aven’t said a word. Are you alright?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, scrutinizing the picture in the magazine.
“What is it?”
“I’m a little worried about this. I mean, look at them.”
“What about them?” Darlene asked.
“Well, they’re rockers, aren’t they? What if they don’t like us?”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Mary said. “But look at their interview answers. They seem so nice and funny - such great wit!”
“Magazines can lie.”
“Well, we’ll see what happens. You never know who’s right,” Darlene intervened.
“Right. We’ll just meet them and whatever happens, happens,” Mary agreed.
“Alright,” Michelle agreed, taking a cigarette from the pack in her jacket.
She lit it and sat with her friends, reading along, still a sense of worry attacking her thoughts. She felt slightly better with the nicotine hitting her system, but it still strayed in the back of her mind. That Darlene and Mary weren’t worried also made her feel a little better.
Around forty minutes later, a knock came to their door. Michelle strode over to open it.
“Hello, girls,” Paul said, stepping into the room. “Sorry, their interview went a bit over-“
“So much for the certain business schedules that need to be tended to,” Mary joked.
“Anyways, they’re back in their hotel room now. Ready to meet them?”
“I suppose so,” she breathed a long heavy breath. “Yes.”
“Alright, let’s go,” Darlene said, standing up.
The three girls followed Paul out of the room and into the hallway. A man was waiting outside a room about halfway down the short hall. Paul and the man made eye contact and he ushered the girls to come with him.
“Girls, this is Albert Mann, the Leatherjackets’ manager.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Darlene said kindly, as Mary sized the man up and Michelle, who had started on another cigarette, simply smiled up at him.
Albert was a wide built man, quite a lot older than Paul, with a thick beard grown in. He smiled a strangely jolly smile.
“Hello, Rag Dolls! It’s a pleasure to be working with you,” he said, clapping his hands together.
“Pleasure,” Mary said, watching him in a rather cat-like fashion.
“Well, I’ll introduce you to the boys.”
He let the girls enter first. This hotel room was quite a lot larger than theirs. It seemed to be three hotel rooms put together, with this part being a living room of sorts. A few couches sat around a fair sized television set. The room reeked of smoke and alcohol, despite its nicer decorations.
“I hope the boys behave,” Michelle overheard Albert say to Paul.
She acted as if she hadn’t heard anything, but nothing could rid her of the sinking feeling in her stomach. She took another drag of her cigarette and walked on.
“Girls, meet the Leatherjackets.”