I woke up with drool in my hair.

Fucking gorgeous. 

I sat up in bed with my hair a wild mess. I had taken my scrunchies out to wash it and kept them around my wrist the entire night. There was no one in bed with me; Malcolm must have slept on the couch. Gathering enough strength for the day and stretching about a mile and a half, I crawled out of bed and left the room.

"I can't see your face if you're all covered up like that," a woman said.

"Sorry," Malcolm said staring straight into the camera and making a face.

"Oh, that's attractive," the woman mumbled sarcastically but snapped a photo anyway. Her eyes widened as she saw me come out of his room. "Oh...I didn't realize you had company."

"Oh, that's our new journalist," Malcolm said plucking his guitar. He was in the exact same spot I left him in last night, wearing the exact same clothes. I wondered if he had even slept at all. "She's been writin' about us an' she needed a place to sleep."

I stood there and waved like an idiot. This woman wore high heels and a lovely skirt with a button up blouse. Her brown hair was feathered and she had a large camera strapped around her neck. She waved back at me, probably hoping I'd be a bit more friendlier than that.

"This is Stelle, she's a photographer," Malcolm said nodding his head toward the woman. "She's been sent up here to take private photos of me."

"I'm taking candid photos of everyone, Mal, not just you," she said trying to snap another photo but Malcolm had dropped his head and his hair covered his face again. She set the camera down and sighed. "And you're being incredibly frustrating."

"You gettin' paid for every photo you take?" Malcolm asked.

"No, I'm actually paid by the hour to even be here," Stelle explained. "But every photo adds a bonus." She finally snapped a shot of Malcolm's profile. 

"Hannah here's on freelance duty," Malcolm said.

"Is that so?" Stelle eyed me up and down, probably wondering why I was dressed like a lady of the evening. "Get paid by the word?"

I bit my lip. "Kind of," I lied. Bullshit, Wattpad only pays for smutty romance stories. Fanfiction is free for all! Stelle snapped a few more photos of Malcolm while Malcolm kept at his guitar. He started playing a riff I could have sworn I recognized.

That's...no, it couldn't be...

It sounded an awful lot like Hell's Bells...

"Your brother took much better photos this morning," Stelle said standing up from her chair. Malcolm rolled his eyes.

"He's a camera man," Malcolm said. "Somethin' about 'em takes away his shyness. He'd probably strip for ya' if ya' asked him." Stelle put the lens cap back on the camera. 

"He offered," she said. "I told him to act natural and he asked "how natural" while taking his shirt off."  Malcolm snickered.

"Yeah, that's Ang..."

"Well, I'm on break. I wanna get something to eat before I'm back at it again. Supposed to be hot today." She looked back at me. "You on break too?" she asked me.

"Uh...I guess so," I shrugged. Malcolm looked pretty occupied at the moment and I didn't feel like bothering him with questions. Malcolm nodded toward the door.

"You should go with her," Malcolm said. "Stelle can take ya' out an' you can come back an' start workin' again." Stelle crossed her arms. 

"Trying to get rid of us?" she asked. 

"Actually, yeah," he mumbled. "Been holdin' in a shit all mornin', ya'd better scram." Stelle rolled her eyes and smiled while I choked back a laugh. 

"Come on then, Hannah, was it?" I nodded. "Let's get out of here before Malcolm chases us out." I ran back to the bedroom and collected all my things before following Stelle out the door. As snarky as Malcolm seemed that morning, he still gave us a smile and a wave as we left.

"Charming, that one," Stelle mumbled leading me out of the hotel. 

**********

It felt good to have a real, nutritious breakfast. She took us out to a small cafe down the street and we both ordered eggs and sweet potato. It also felt pretty good to be able to pay for my share of the meal. Stelle sipped on her lemonade and I had water. Her camera sat on the table next to her plate along with my notebook and pens. "So how'd you get to work with the band?" she asked. 

I swallowed. How to explain this as truthfully as possibly while also avoiding the truth...."I...I've been interested in rock and roll for most of my life," I said. "And AC/DC is my favorite band...so I...came down here to see them."

"Just like that?" Stelle asked. "I've been a photographer in England for six years and I shot up and coming bands in clubs before being assigned AC/DC." I shrugged.

"I got lucky," I said. Stelle nodded.

"Real lucky. Who have you interviewed so far?" she asked, tapping on my notebook. I grabbed it off the table and flipped through some pages. 

"I've got Bon and Malcolm," I said, viewing my notes. 

"Oh, you should see Cliff next, he's my favorite," she said. "Great model, such a gentleman." I couldn't argue, Cliff was a stud. "It almost makes me sad he's got a girlfriend already."

My ears perked up. Georgeanne? Was it the lovely Georgeanne?

"But he's happy with her. Can't fault the men for finding love." That was true. The number one rule of groupies is...

1. Wives and girlfriends ALWAYS come first.

If he's unavailable, we back the fuck off. And the same goes for the rockstar. A bit of temporary pleasure isn't worth risking your loved ones for. If one starts coming on to us, we politely turn him down. Damn shame some rockstars broke that rule. A rule that I carried very near and dear to my heart. 

People aren't toys to be played with. They're people.

"You have your eye on anyone?" Stelle asked wiping her mouth on a napkin. I almost choked on my food, my heart racing. "I won't tell anyone."

I didn't want to take that chance. Instead of dropping Ang's name, I told her the truth. "Well...Malcolm is my favorite," I said. "But I don't like him that way." Stelle seemed to accept that. 

"Malcolm knows his craft, that's for sure," she said. "Also knows how to push a few buttons. But he's a good guy."

We finished our meal and Stelle took me out for a bit of shopping. After telling her my living situation and trying to explain how I had no extra clothes with me to her utmost confusion, she offered to buy me a few things. She brought me to a swanky boutique several blocks down and the colors were the first to catch my eye.

Very...brown...good thing I like brown.

"I need something new to wear to shoot the boys tonight," she said rifling through some pieces on the rack. "Something professional while also...approachable. No matter what people say. Fashion matters."

Finally! Someone who felt the same way I did about clothes!

The only thing that stood out to me was a pair of brown corduroy bell bottoms and a white lacy top. At least it was something different. I wanted to change immediately but Stelle insisted we wait until we got to her hotel. She grabbed my hand while I threw my things in the shopping bag and we hurried through morning traffic unscathed.

**********

Stelle kicked her heels off and laid back on the chaise lounge, picking up the phone. I helped myself to freshening up in the bathroom and changing my clothes. The bag was stretched to full capacity from shoving my leather jacket inside. But the weather allowed me to leave it behind. Stelle talked on the phone to someone rather important, although at times it sounded like she was flirting with whoever it was. 

"Alright....alright, that's fair. Mhm, bye." She hung up and lit up a cigarette. "That was my boss," she said. "He's the one who paid for the room and my flight over from London." I nodded and she stood up from the lounge. "You done in there?" She pointed to the bathroom. I nodded again like the socialite I was. "Alright, I'm changing. You can use the phone to call your office or whatever you need, I don't mind." She grabbed her bags and rushed into the bathroom.

Her room was quite lavish. Much fancier than the hotel the boys were staying at. Her boss must be loaded. There was a breakfast bar covered in several bottles of alcohol and a spread of makeup palettes. A nice couch with a good looking box television set, several pairs of high heels and a bulging suitcase. A glass of wine on the coffee table next to some fashion magazines and a book on Coco Chanel. 

I scooped up the book and looked at the glamorous woman on the cover. Lovely short, dark hair with strings of pearls around her neck. I looked at the fashion magazines and rifled through them. Page after page of gorgeous gowns and two piece sets. Quilted purses and matte red lipsticks. Now this was my kind of thing. 

I know it didn't look like it, but I really am into fashion. I would sometimes design outfits in a book back home or I'd even dream things up and draw them out when I woke up. If fashion didn't matter, everyone would look the same and no one could express themselves. Even if in the grand scheme of things it was somewhat more trivial, it would always make my world a little happier. 

Stelle came out of the bathroom all touched up and grabbed a purse sitting on a stool. I threw the magazines haphazardly on the coffee table and stood up. She was in a new blue dress with a brown belt around the waist. "Shoot doesn't start for another few hours," she said. "How's about a drink? I'm paying."

**********

Instead of enjoying a drink at some pub down the road, Stelle took me to the hotel bar. The stools were a cheery, cherry red and the bar itself was a dark brown. She ordered a white wine and looked at me. Was drinking another of those things that everyone did but I just didn't understand? Another joke I wasn't in on? "I...don't know..." I said.

"What do you like, fruit? Something that burns on the way down?" Both of those things sounded absolutely awful. I knew "virgin" described a drink without any alcohol in it. I looked at the tiny menu in front of me, attempting to read the loopy font. What was that one drink called....something with chocolate in it...

"I like chocolate," I said hoping to jog someone's memory. Stelle's eyes lit up. 

"Oh, you should have the Brandy Alexander," she said while the bartender looked to me for confirmation. "I had one for my eighteenth birthday."

The Brandy Alexander, that was it. "Uh...sure," I said and the bartender got to work. "Could I get one without alcohol?" I asked. 

"Sure," he said and grabbed a glass. Stelle looked at me funny.

"No alcohol?" she said in shock. "Love, what's the point in that?" I refused to let the peer pressure get to me. She swirled her wine glass. "May as well have a chocolate milk."

"Alcohol makes me sick," I said. And that wasn't a lie. Once when I was younger I snuck some alcoholic Popsicle's to cool off from the wretched summer heat. Only a few bites in and I wasn't feeling well. Not only did the watermelon/hibiscus flavor taste more like shit than anything else, but the tiny amount of alcohol I did consume messed with me.

Or it could have been completely psychosomatic. 

And what was wrong with chocolate milk anyway??

The bartender placed the drink in front of me while Stelle paid him. I took a careful sip and winced. Not...the worst thing I'd ever tasted in my life. I drank it slowly, making sure not to spoil my appetite for any upcoming meals. It certainly wasn't chocolate milk but it wasn't bad.

The bartender wiped a glass and nodded at Stelle's camera. "You a photographer?" he asked. 

"For six years," she beamed. "I'm on a job right now shooting AC/DC. This here's their journalist." She pointed at me and my Wonder Woman notebook. 

"No kidding, I love that band," the bartender said throwing the towel over his shoulder. If I didn't know any better I'd say he was making eyes at Stelle. She was beautiful, I couldn't deny that. I was sort of hoping he would keep his attention on her while I nursed my virgin chokkie. "You seeing any of them?"

"We wish, right, Hannah?" I coughed on my drink and nodded, frantically grabbing a napkin. "We're strictly here on professional business, if you must know."

"Alright, alright," he said. "I get it. Enjoy your drinks." He let us alone with a parting smile and went to serve an old couple at the end of the bar. 

"Boy, he's a looker," Stelle said. "But not my type."

"Me either," I said, glad to have something to add.

**********

Stelle was right. It was hot today. 

November 12 1978 somewhere in Australia was bound to be a little toasty. We were down by an old railroad track next to some decrepit looking buildings on the outskirts of town. The boys had all shown up early and were goofing off before the shoot. They looked like they were having fun and I felt a small pang in my heart. 

It had been years since I'd had that kind of fun. 

Stelle hooked her camera around her neck and started giving orders to the other people there with us. They were all running around trying to please her, not wanting to mess anything up. I sat on a chair someone had set up away from it all. Trying not to get too excited.

Oh, this was so exciting!!!!

A real AC/DC photo shoot. I was witnessing history! There they all were horsing around and making Stelle laugh even though she pretended she was offended by their antics. She'd direct them occasionally but she usually just let them do whatever and I think they enjoyed that. Especially Angus. He put on quite a show for us all.

I was enchanted.

During their break they all scattered to either talk, grab something to eat, or have a bathroom break. I myself was feeling a little peckish and since the food appeared to be free....

I crept up to the table to the fruit bowl and picked out a fresh banana. I whirled around when I felt the gentle tap on my shoulder. "So you're the new journalist, eh?"

Stelle stood next to Clifford with a smirk on her face. The Clifford Williams. The Stiff Willy himself....

I held my hand out and he shook it. "I guess so..."

"You guess so, you told me you've already talked to two others!" Stelle said. 

"Well, yeah, I guess so..."

Hannah Ruth, you incompetent buffoon.

Cliff smiled all the same while Stelle rolled her eyes. "Well, here's your third," she said. "I told him you'd be interested in interviewing him and he quite agreed with it."

"We'll talk after the shoot, yeah?" Cliff said with a wave. The wind blew his hair spectacularly. Stelle and I waved back while Stelle fanned her face.

"Goodness me..." she muttered. 

The shoot was back on in no time at all and the boys were even more energetic after they ate. Bon wanted to have his picture taken at the top of a rather large tree and Stelle advised against it as the cameras probably couldn't reach that high up without sacrificing some quality. Bon made an attempt to climb the tree anyway. Stelle shouted at him to come down and Bon only smiled and climbed higher. Phil cheered him on.

"You're not helping, Phil, what if he falls?" Stelle asked. 

"We'll catch him," Phil said. 

"Yeah, Bon falls a lot," Malcolm said. "We're used to catchin' him just on the street."

"Oh, that's great," Stelle said fighting off a smile. "What do you think we should do, Hannah?"

Suddenly all eyes were on me. Stelle's, and the entire bands'. I could feel my cheeks burning up. I couldn't lose my cool. I had to get a grip. They're just human men, nothing to get excited over, nothing to twist my panties over, just four of the most stunning men in history all have their eyes on me waiting for a witty response. I watched Bon climb higher. 

"Christmas is coming," I said with a shrug. "Throw some lights around it." Stelle stared at me. "You've already got the star on top."

Stelle sighed while Angus snickered. I couldn't believe it...I made Angus McKinnon laugh...I did it...Stelle, did you hear that? Stelle...pinch me, Stelle, I must be dreaming....

"Bon, you get your arse down here right this minute!" Stelle shouted. I could barely focus on the events happening around me. I was too starstruck to concentrate. "If you fall and die, so help me God..."

Bon took the opportunity to swing from a high branch like a monkey. Something yellow stuck out from the back pocket of his jeans. It was too far to see clearly but it looked an awful lot like a banana....

Stelle....I made him laugh...I need to sit down...

"Eugh, you menace!" Anyone could see Stelle was just as entertained as the rest of us. But she had a job to do and it was getting late in the day. And Bon seemed to have made his home in that tree. "One of you needs to get up there and bring him down."

"Alright, Angus, you're up," Malcolm said patting his brother on the back.

"Fuck that," Angus said observing how high Bon was up the tree.

"Call the fire department," Cliff suggested. 

"But he's not really stuck up there, he's just being..." Stelle stared at Bon as he started undoing his belt with one hand. "...Bon."

Steeeeeeeeeeeeelle.....

"If we throw things at him he'll come down," Phil said. "Well, he'll fall out, anyway."

"Yeah, perfect idea," said Stelle. I snapped out of my reverie and watched the show as someone on the team took it upon himself to try climbing the tree. He was a big guy but pretty strong nonetheless and made it up a few feet. Bon noticed him too and tried climbing higher. The man grabbed Bon's shoe, hanging onto the trunk for his dear life as Bon tried shaking his foot to get away. Bon's Nike sneaker went flying off his foot and landed in the dirt below. The man got a grip on Bon's ankle and finally Bon gave up and started climbing down. 

With the big man working up a sweat and taking a seat Bon walked through the dirt in one shoe and a sock and grabbed the other shoe off the ground. He came up to Stelle, holding it in his hand. "I was fine," he said shaking the dirt out. His white sock wasn't exactly white anymore. Stelle crossed her arms over her camera. "Come on, jus' havin' a bit of fun, is all."

"We're done for the day," Stelle said pointing at her watch. "Thanks to Bon, the shoot is over." The boys cheered and Bon took a bow. Rolling her eyes Stelle flashed a quick photo of Bon putting on his shoe, hopping on one foot. "That will make a great Christmas card," she said giving her best smile. "Thanks for your time, Ronald."

"You're welcome, Estelle," he called after her. He wiped his hands off and removed any splinters. "Alright, time for a drink."

The boys grouped together and headed out, either back to the hotel or to some bar for a drink. Angus, being dressed in his school suit, was probably going back to change first before going out anywhere. Cliff came over to me with a smile. "Well, time for that interview, huh?" he asked. I grinned. 

This really wasn't so bad. Going back in time and all. And what a fucking fantastic story this would all make back home...