Would my family ever find out I was gone? As in, one of them tries to contact me and I'm missing? Or is it more like Narnia where they wouldn't even be aware that I left?

What about changes to me? Will my hair grow while I'm here? My nails? Is my monthly cycle still a thing? Or has everything been put on pause and I just...don't age?

And the photograph thing. What if someone takes a photo of the band and I happen to be next to them? What if I'm scrolling through my phone back home and see a photo of myself from 1978? 

Would someone from this time recognize me if they saw me again in the future? Or would it have been too long? Would I recognize them? What would I say if I did?

Has this ever happened to someone before? Or am I the first? And what makes me so special? Why have I been chosen out of all the people on Earth? 

And most importantly...why's Bon smiling at me like that?

We were walking down the hall to the hotel room while I asked myself millions of questions. I couldn't tell if Bon knew I was having a mental struggle or what but he remained positive and friendly about it. 

The hotel was very small. Some fire alarms on the wall, an ice machine, stains on the carpet, the usual. One light was flickering before burning out. 

Hope that's not an omen...

Bon found our room and unlocked the door letting me inside first. By the looks of the room, the band had been staying at this hotel for a while.

Pages and papers on the little coffee table next to a mug of stale tea that was surely leaving a ring. I couldn't read any of the loopy writing on the papers and I didn't want to snoop anyway. There was a phone book lying open on the floor and a few pages were torn out of it. The couch was covered in an open suitcase with clothes spilling out of it. There was a book on top of it. It looked to be about Ancient Rome. 

What confused me was the guitar case lying in the corner. It looked too big to be an electric guitar, perhaps an acoustic? Bon must have noticed my staring. "I used to fiddle around a bit on guitars, ya' know?" he said standing by a kitchen table. "Never really played or anything, I was a drummer, ya' know? But it helps to have it around when you're writin' songs." He smiled at me. It was a lovely smile. That was something everybody agreed on.

While Bon messed around in the kitchen I found myself fascinated by the room. The television was on the floor with long antennae sticking out of it. There were knobs to control it and I wondered if it were black and white or color. There was a rotary phone sitting on a little stand by the wall. The long spiraling cord plugged into the wall. 

I was enchanted. I picked it up and held it to my ear, hearing a monotonous tone. When someone picked up and said "hello" I almost dropped it and scurried to put it back on the hook. 

Bon didn't notice.

There was a bed around a corner that aside from being unmade was pretty clean. I backed away from it, wondering just what exactly Bon's intentions were...

"Hannah?" he called out. I came back to the kitchen where he had new cup of tea. "Oh, there you are." He nodded at the stove. "There's tea if you want. I noticed you didn't drink your delicious beer."

"I don't drink," I admitted. He smiled.

"I do."

I helped myself to a tiny little bit of tea to be polite. He went through all this trouble anyway. With my cup I went over to the table where Bon was sitting and sat across from him. I took a sip. It was black and bitter. I love a good milky tea myself. Lady Grey, Prince of Wales, Scottish Brekkie...

I snapped to attention as he spoke. "Tell me about yourself," he said. "Let's get to know each other a little better."

Well, shit. At least he was a gentleman. I searched my past for ideas. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything," he said shrugging. "You're American, you write freelance articles about bands, you sit on dogs." I had to smile at that. "What else?"

I couldn't tell him about the time travel thing...maybe I could be vague again. 

"Well, I first heard about your band when I was nine...teen...nineteen," I said correcting myself. "It took a couple of years for me to get into your music but I like it now." Bon nodded as he listened. "And....I don't know, what else is there to say?"

"Oh, I think there's more than that," Bon smiled. "You have our albums?" I nodded. "Which one was your first one?"

"Highway-Voltage. High Voltage." I could have beat myself to a pulp! I can't keep making slips like that! He's going to get suspicious or think I'm a freak! Bon gave me a confused smile but didn't say anything about it.

"That your favorite?"

I spoke very slowly so as not to make another mistake. "My favorite is...Powerage," I said. Of course now these men had an album called Power Up, leaving me open to making another fumble. It's funny in a way. Powerage is my favorite album of Bon's, while Power Up is my favorite album of Brian's.

"Interestin'," he said drinking his tea. I swirled mine around, taking small sips here and there. "What about other bands? Other kinds of music?" I considered that. Trying to think of bands that would have existed by now.

"I like the Beatles," I said. "The Who, the Kinks..."

"Rolling Stones?" Bon asked. I grimaced. 

"Eh," I shrugged. Bon sat up straighter giving me an incredulous look. 

"Really?" he asked. "How's that?"

I did my best to come up with an explanation. "I've listened to their music several times," I said. "And I keep waiting for it to grab me and it never does. I keep waiting for the spark...and it never comes." Bon's lips turned up a bit. 

"Huh...yeah, I've had a few bands like that. Mostly punk, ya' know? Like...we were always put up next to the Sex Pistols or whichever an' I gave them a listen an' it's just nothin'. A bold statement but nothin' there, ya' know?" I nodded. 

"I don't like punk," I said. "I don't like Sex Pistols, and I tried New York Dolls and they sound so similar that I don't like them either." He sipped at his tea again. "But I was told Blondie was sort of a punk band and I like them. But they didn't sound punk at all! Their first album had...surf rock in it!"

"Ya' like surf rock?"

"A little," I smiled sheepishly. "I like the Beach Boys."

"I like a bit of southern rock, ya' know? Ever hear Lynyrd Skynyrd? Or the like?" I nodded. "Once in a while I'll pop on a record of that. Gets the creative juices flowin'." I sipped a tiny bit more tea. "Rock's your favorite?" I nodded. "Mine too. Rock an' roll, Little Richard...things like that."

"I also like the Sweet."

"The Sweet, eh? Usually hear their music in the shops an' the stores an' wherever," Bon said. "What about rock an' roll that makes it your favorite? Is it the volume? The rhythm?"

I thought about it for a minute. Was it the atmosphere? The scene? I certainly liked the music and the ability to dance to it. "It's fun to dance to," I told him. He raised his eyebrows and leaned forward.

"You dance, do ya'?" he asked. I felt my cheeks go hot and looked down at the table. "Well, come on, I wanna see for myself."

"No," I said trying not to laugh. "No, you don't want to see that..."

"Oh, but I do," he said nudging my foot with his under the table. He had a look of mischief in his sparkling eyes. I avoided them like the Plague. "Come on, not one little jig?"

You'd like that, wouldn't you, Bon? I stood my ground. "I need to drink at least two cups of tea before I start dancing," I said. "And I need music."

"I got tea, I got music," Bon said pointing in different directions. He tried sticking out his bottom lip. "Ya' really mean it?"

"Maybe some other time," I said with a smile. 

"Alright, I'm holdin' ya' to that." He sipped more tea, batting his lashes over his mug. "Ya' look like a dancer," he said. I also had a little sip of tea and almost choked on it. "What? You're so tiny, like." He held up his thumb and index finger to demonstrate just how small I was. "An' you're pretty good company, I might add."

I smiled. Nobody had ever told me that before. I wasn't much of a talker and friends were hard to come by. Bon seemed to be one of those people who anybody could talk to. He had a way of making you feel comfortable, even if you were shy. He probably had friends all over the world, just waiting for him to come around again. I didn't regret coming here for one second. 

"Thanks, Bon," I said. "You're good company too."

"Aw, thanks," he said. "Nice of ya' to say. An' nice of ya' to drop by our show."

"It was nice of you to hand out free passes," I said. If I had never gotten that pass, I wouldn't be here right now. He shrugged.

"That was nothin'," he said. "Sometimes we let security find..." He smiled with a glint in his eye. "Ya' know how it is, when you've been on the road as long as we have."

I raised my eyebrows. I wasn't sure I did...

"I'm sure it's not what you're thinkin'," he said waving my thoughts away. "I mean, they're more than welcome too, ya' know? But...sometimes the guys talk about findin' a steady woman, ya' know? Someone they can date or marry or whatever, ya' know? An' when you're as busy as we are, it's hard to...sit down an' talk with anyone. So we let a few of 'em backstage an' get to know some of 'em. Make friends, an' all." I felt a little better. I had my suspicions and all, but this made me feel a little less...ogled. "But good times are pretty good too." He showed me all his nice teeth. 

"I see," was all I said. He inspected me a bit.

"You wouldn't happen to be a groupie, would ya'?" I mentally rubbed my hands together evilly. Bon didn't know the half of it. Sitting before him was the biggest, baddest, most dedicated groupie of them all. 

Not to mention the lousiest. 

I smirked a little. "I suppose I am," I said. "But only for this band."

"Ya' don't say..." Bon said, his cup empty. "Strictly AC/DC, no KISS? No Rush?"

"No," I said, grimacing. "Not them." Bon looked rather pleased. I wondered if perhaps I was giving him the wrong idea... "I'm not a very good one," I said. "I don't...sleep with anybody..."

"Not every groupie does," Bon said shrugging. "I like 'em all. Well, most of 'em, anyway, ya' know, some are kinda pushy. I like assertive, though, ya' know, confident women. I like smart." 

"I'm more like a statue," I admitted. "Just stuff me in a corner." He laughed a little. I tried not to jump with glee from making Bon Scott laugh for two seconds. 

"Nah, you're good company. You're smart, from what I hear," he said. He flashed me his smile again. "An' I like smart."

Calm down, he only said what your parents say to their friends, it's nothing to lose your head over....

"Well, if you're done with your drink you can pop off," he said nodding towards the bed. "I'll jus' swipe everything off the couch. Or the shower's by the toilet, if ya' didn't know." I turned to where he was pointing and stood up from my chair. 

"Guess a quick wash wouldn't hurt," I said. He waved me off and I went into the bathroom and switched on the light. 

Only the light didn't work.

I stood there in the dark, flicking the switch on and off. Nothing. Very nice. I carefully stepped over to the toilet and wiped it down first. Not that I thought Bon was a slob. But if the lights don't work in the john, you can never be too careful where you stand and where you sit. After finishing up there I turned the water on in the shower and jumped when it was ice cold. I decided not to wash my hair and just grabbed whatever soap my hands found. A few minutes later the stream turned into a trickle and I stepped out. The only towel I could feel was the one on the floor lying in a heap.

Well....desperate times...

I quickly dressed and left the bathroom, expecting to see Bon on the couch or pass me on his way to use the toilet after all he drank that night. Instead I found him lying face down on the bed, snoring.

He must have been half asleep when we were talking.

I took a look at the messy couch and decided I didn't want to make an even bigger mess by moving everything. It all had its place and its place was the couch. I looked back at Bon and knew how many women would have killed to be in this predicament. 

I really was a lucky bitch.

I was even luckier when I quietly slipped onto the bed next to him and he rolled over, landing on top of me. 

And still dead asleep. 

Did I mention he wasn't wearing a shirt?

He wasn't very heavy, being a rather tiny man. But I was nothing more than a couple of sticks that were currently about to snap. I pushed on his back and managed to toss him to the other side of the bed where his face met pillow. Somehow, between watching out for Bon's nighttime acrobatics and internally squealing like a maniac from my once in a lifetime circumstances, I managed to fall asleep.