Bon was still sleeping when I set the folded note on the coffee table. His light snoring under his hair and blanket faded as I left the room, laundry bag slung over my shoulder. This room didn't have a washer like Stelle's so I'd have to find the laundromat downstairs. I left early enough so I could still meet Angus for the fancy breakfast.

After countless searching, asking around, and one young child mistaking me for Santa Claus, I found the laundromat in a nondescript room with the AC on way too high. Inside, some swear words echoed off the walls. "Come on, ya' fuckin' thing..." Nervous, I peered around the corner to see a young man with long brown hair standing over one of the washing machines, appearing to beat the shit out of it. He wasn't wearing a shirt and I thought he must have been freezing in this room. "Ya' know, the least ya' could fuckin' do is give me my fuckin' money back."

Without making a sound I looked for a machine on the other side of the room. The man turned around anyway. I had to double check but I could have sworn he looked just like....Malcolm? But it wasn't Malcolm, it was....

"Sorry 'bout that," he said, crossing his arms. "Word of advice, don't use this one." He pointed at his machine.

"I won't," I said. The laundromat was empty except for us. I shivered as a particularly chilly breeze poured on me from a ceiling vent. Without him knowing, I tried sneaking glances at him to see if he really was who I thought he was.

"Don't mind me, jus' here for a shirt," he said. "Was at breakfast with an uncle of mine an' he spilled his wine on me." The man may have been scowling but affection laced his voice.

I smiled at the thought of Malcolm teasing his nephew and making a mess as a result. But I had to be sure this was Malcolm he was referring to. "He did, did he?"

"Practically poured it all over me," he said as I opened my bag and started pulling clothes out. "Now he's put a curse on my machine." I held in my giggles as best I could. "Don't let his rockstar charm fool ya', Miss, he's a menace."

"Your uncle is a rockstar?" I asked, playing coy. The man nodded and hit his fist on the machine again.

"Yeah, big tour's about to start," he said. "Came for a short visit while the band's still here. AC/DC, ya' might have heard of 'em?"

"They sound familiar," I said and the man cursed under his breath and kicked the washing machine. With a groan and a shudder, it started up. The man grinned in triumph.

"An' there ya' have it," he said. I pulled a bit of spare change from my pocket and pushed it through the slot. "What's your name?"

"Hannah Ruth," I said. And just to make sure.... "What's yours?"

"Stevie," he said. Unless Cliff also had a nephew named Stevie, this was Stevie Young himself. "Nice to meet ya'."

"You play anything?" I asked, trying my hand at conversation." Stevie shrugged.

"Bit of guitar here an' there," he said. "Nowhere near as good as these guys." I wondered if I should continue my charade or admit that I had been a groupie for the band for the last few weeks. How would that go over?

Truth is, Stevie, I'm a huge fan of the band and have a burning crush on your uncle.

Yeah? Get in line, which one?

"You're an American," he observed, looking me over.

"I am," I said.

"How do ya' like that? Ya' jus' here on holiday, or...."

"Yeah," I said quickly. He nodded and looked down at his machine. Mine started up right away and I hoped I had used enough soap. Better than using too much, I supposed. These machines were green and had some sort of label marked 'permanent press'. Back in my 2024 days I'd spend time on YouTube watching old sixties and seventies commercials. The doting mother would always reprimand her sticky son how to properly wash his jock strap and they'd mention permanent press. Something about wrinkles? "I guess I'm on an adventure," I said.

"I like that," Stevie said. "An adventure sounds fun."

**********

"You'll be alright down here by yourself?" Stevie asked, putting his shirt back on. My clothes still needed a few minutes in the dryer before I could leave. "Kind of borin', kind of lonely."

"I'll be okay," I said. Stevie nodded and headed for the exit.

"Hope Mal didn't eat all my food while I was gone..." he muttered. As soon as I knew he couldn't hear me, I burst out laughing. Won't he be surprised to see me at breakfast sitting with the band! Hopefully he wouldn't think I was playing a cruel joke on him. That was the last thing I needed.

The laundromat truly felt like a basement. Pipes of white paint and grey metal ran along one half of the ceiling and led to what looked like a boiler. No wonder they had the AC on turbo blast. I tapped my foot, getting impatient for my clothes to dry. One of my last days to spend time with my favorite band and I was stuck down here. Freezing my ass off.

Oh well. Nothing like singing a song to pass the time.

**********

I almost tripped hurrying back to Bon's room, my laundry bag banging against my legs. After belting out a rendition of Forever Young, blushing at the idea of marrying into the Young family, I nearly jumped out of my skin when three women came into the laundromat, staring at me. My face burned even hotter and grabbing my clothes, I hauled serious ass back to the hotel room.

That's what I get for putting on a concert.

Slipping my key into the lock I opened the door and let it slam closed behind me, not realizing Bon was still asleep on the couch. I froze, waiting for him to wake up or fall on the floor in surprise. When none of that happened, I stole into the bedroom and grabbed my notebook, quickly writing about my meeting with Stevie Young. Leaving my laundry bag on the floor next to the bed, I crept out of the room, grabbing another sheet of stationary to write a new note for Bon to read when he woke up. At one point he rolled over on the couch, muttering something. The blanket was falling off, exposing his severely undressed self.

I reached a hand out to adjust it, then took it back. Reached out again. "Nah, he's fine," I whispered and left Bon a naked blob on the couch.

**********

"Ya' made it darlin'," Malcolm said. There was a glass of wine in his hand; probably the one he spilled on Stevie. The dining room was bedecked in Christmas decorations. A huge Christmas tree covered in red and gold baubles stood in the corner with a few presents underneath. For a minute I thought they were fake until I saw a sign asking for donations to the local children's hospital. If there was enough money in my pocket I could probably get something to donate. "Here, have a seat." Malcolm led me to a table and pulled the chair out for me.

"Thank you," I said, taking a seat. Malcolm took the chair next to me, grabbing the bottle of wine being used as a centerpiece. Looking around at the other tables, I didn't see any wine.

"Ordered this ourselves," Malcolm explained. "Cost a couple arms an' a testicle but it was worth it." I laughed.

"Whose testicle?" I asked. Malcolm took a sip.

"Don't matter," he said. "Ya' only need one, right?" There were other people in the dining room milling about, most of them hotel guests. Plenty came down in their pajamas and I felt overdressed. I recognized a few roadies who were talking to some women. I had a hunch they were fellow groupies invited to breakfast like I had been. Maybe they had also been invited to go on tour with the band. Malcolm was the only one of the band I saw. Even Stevie was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is everyone?" I asked. Malcolm shrugged.

"Ang's probably asleep," he said. "Will be for quite some time. Cliff was just here, he'll be back in a sec. Don't know about Phil. Is Bon still back in your room?"

"Yeah, he's sleeping," I said.

"Figures," Malcolm said. "With the day he had..." He finished his wine and poured some more. "The bloke deserves a good long sleep."

"Has everyone already eaten?" I asked.

"Just a bit of tea for a start," Malcolm said. I frowned, having missed the best part. "They're comin' by for the next course any minute. Means we ought to stay put."

"The guys are gonna miss everything," I said, hoping Angus didn't mind cold leftovers. A few waiters in aprons came up to the tables holding trays in both hands. I couldn't believe they didn't drop a single thing as they maneuvered around the room, plates rattling. Setting trays down on the tables, they passed around plates of eggs, sausage, and some kind of vegetable I didn't recognize. By the time they got to our table, the other chairs had been filled by hotel guests and Cliff.

"That's the stuff," Malcolm said, thanking the waiters. I picked up a menu and skimmed through, hoping to identify our food. Scrambled eggs, link sausage, and creamed spinach. I'd never eaten cooked spinach before but there's a first for everything. Keeping an eye out for Angus, I dug in. "Ah, could we get another of these? By any chance?" Malcolm asked, holding up the empty wine bottle. "We've got a small party on the way. Thanks, mate."

"Ya' sure know how to pick 'em, Mal." Cliff said, inspecting the bottle Malcolm set down. "Wouldn't mind a glass of that."

"Mal will let you have some of his," a man said, approaching our table. Creamed spinach all over my face, I looked up to see Stevie. Malcolm brightened.

"Shirt looks great, son," he said. Stevie gestured to it.

"Had to try cleanin' the stain in the men's room. The one washer I pick an' it doesn't do the job." He grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table and sat down. Malcolm patted me on the back.

"Stevie, this is Hannah," he said. "Friend of the band, ya' know?" Stevie's eyes met mine and he squinted, studying my face. I swallowed my food and smiled, spinach surely in my teeth. "Hannah, this here is my nephew."

"You're the sheila from the laundry room," Stevie said, pointing at me. "Thought you was just a guest, like." Malcolm and Cliff looked back and forth between us. "Ya' never said you already knew 'em!"

"Have you two met?" Malcolm asked. Stevie broke out into a smile.

"So ya' know my uncle Mal, huh?" He asked as Malcolm accepted the new bottle of wine. "Not been too much trouble, I hope?"

"Who are you callin' trouble?" Malcolm asked, pouring a small glass and passing the bottle to Cliff. "Hannah's been our...." Our eyes met. I wasn't sure how eager Malcolm was to tell his nephew I was the band's groupie. "Journalist," he finished. Stevie nodded in interest as Cliff chuckled to himself. "Worked her arse off, ya' know?"

"Sure," Stevie said. Malcolm nudged me with his foot under the table and I leaned closer.

"Have ya' said a word about..." He bit his bottom lip and I wasn't sure what he was talking about. "Ya' know, what ya' wrote in that notebook?"

I hadn't mentioned anything to Stevie about traveling back in time and I wasn't sure I wanted to. Not that I didn't trust him. But putting myself in that situation a seventh time, chancing the possibility that he didn't believe me and urge his uncles to stay away from me didn't put me in the mood to finish my breakfast. "No," I whispered. "Not yet." Malcolm nodded and leaned away to eat.

"Talkin' about me?" Stevie asked. Malcolm shoved food in his mouth and shook his head.

"Not at all," he chewed. Stevie turned to me as he buttered some bread. There was a tub on the table filled with a brown spread. I couldn't believe it! Could that have been the infamous Vegemite?

"That true, Miss?" he asked.

"I was just..." I tapped my fingers on the table. "Telling Malcolm how much you look like him." Stevie and Malcolm looked at each other.

"I don't see it," Stevie said laughing.

"I feel bad for ya', mate," Malcolm said. "No poor bastard needs my mug."

"Or mine," a voice said. We all turned to see Angus with his curly hair a mess and his eyes half shut. His shirt may have been on backwards.

"Mornin', Ang," Cliff said, scooting his chair to make room. "Food's been comin' all day." Angus looked at what everyone was eating then picked up a menu.

"Mornin', Ang," Stevie said and Angus nodded in Stevie's general direction, running a hand through his hair. He sat between Cliff and me, yawning.

"Ya' jus' wakin' up?" Malcolm asked. Angus flipped the menu around then let it flutter to the table. "They've already handed out tea. 'Bout an hour ago."

"Fuck," Angus muttered, yawning again. He put his head in his hand and closed his eyes. Sleepy Angus was extra cute... "Made it, sweetheart...."

"I'll get him some tea," Malcolm said, standing up. "Before he falls asleep. Ya' want some too, Hannah?"

"Yes please." Malcolm left us sitting and it was quiet except for the other guests chatting at our table. They didn't seem to recognize the band or they didn't care. Angus stirred only to scrunch his face up or yawn. Stevie ate his food quietly and Cliff pushed his plate toward Angus.

"I'm about finished," Cliff said. "You can have the rest, mate."

"Thanks," Angus muttered, eyes still closed. I was sure he was running on fumes, not knowing who or what he was responding to. Cliff took more wine and Stevie took a quick taste from the bottle, grimacing.

"Not to your taste?" Cliff asked.

"Bit bitter," Stevie said. "Not what I usually drink." Cliff took the bottle back and held it close, scanning the room.

"Bon an' Phil better pick up the pace or I'll drink the whole thing," he said. "Gladly." Angus sighed, snoring a little.

Malcolm returned with two cups of tea in his hands, piping hot, and a lit cigarette in his mouth. He set them in front of us and resumed his seat. "There, got your drug fix, Ang." Angus grabbed his cup and drank half before setting it down.

"Ya' goin' on tour with these guys, Hannah?" Stevie asked. "I'd go if I wasn't so busy." I shifted uneasily in my seat. "Journalism an' all, that's gotta be excitin'."

"I don't know," I said. Malcolm watched my discomfort with a gleam of sympathy.

"Ya' know you can always hitch a ride with us," he said. "We wouldn't mind if ya' came along." My entire body warmed at the gesture. It was sweet, but was it practical? I had to go home, didn't I? Or was I stuck here, about to make the biggest mistake of my life by turning them down? Malcolm lowered his voice. "Ain't every day we let the groupies board the bus."

"I guess we'll see what happens," I said and left it at that. Stevie seemed satisfied. Cliff had found a friend of his to chat with and left the table and Angus was still half asleep. Only Malcolm could see my heart being stretched in two directions.

What if declining the invitation sent me back home to 2024? And accepting it....kept me here in the seventies forever?